Dinner with the Family Prequel
by ShadowThorne
Summary: Set one year before the original story; learn how Don Shirosaki climbed to power and how Ichigo and Grimmjow became partners in crime and in the bedroom. blood/violence, language
1. Chapter 1

**I just couldn't leave this AU alone... So here you go, a prequel to _Dinner with the Family  
><em>(dont you just love my creative titles? XD )_  
><em>**

**If you haven't read _Dinner with the Family_ yet, I recommend you do so! This will still make sense if you read it first, obviously, and it does take place before the main story, but it will take some of the fun out of the original story! Just a fair warning~**

**Enjoy!  
><strong>

* * *

><p>It was a quiet evening, calm, peaceful even. The weather was nice and the sun was shining, but not for much longer as it began it's decent into the horizon. The city streets still bustled with people commuting home from work for the night, the lively sounds of voices and traffic muted from the length of the extensive, well manicured front lawn. The streets would soon be cleared, the city winding down for a peaceful night, hard working men and women going home to their loved ones and forgetting about the harsh world around them. At least until the morning news.<p>

But the night life was just beginning to stir. Those who thrived in the darkness of the city were awakening, readying for another night of business and dealings in all manner of things considered taboo and feared by the everyday citizens. Powerful men warred to become even more powerful, controlling their territories and occasionally greedily fighting for more. Murder was common, killing was a simple thing, death was their business and whoever could go about their business the quickest, most ruthlessly and unforgivingly would rise through the ranks.

And one man stood out amongst the others; more cunning with new ideals and ideas, the determination and brutality to take what he wanted, and the unrelenting personality to let nothing stand in his way.

Perched upon the top of the long, expertly crafted dinning table, the young man kicked his legs slightly, letting them sway under him as he looked down at his handy work. A wide smirk creased unnaturally pale lips and the man addressed the only other person in the room. Well, the only other living person in the room, anyway.

"Daddy taught me well, didn' he?" The young man tilted his head to the side and leaned backward to support his weight on leanly muscled arms. The deep crimson material of his silk button up shirt had been rolled passed his elbows, further revealing his lack of pigment. His fitted, charcoal grey slacks, probably costing more than most people's entire wardrobe, clung to long, lean legs as the man ceased their movement and crossed one to rest over the knee of the other. He casually replaced the safety on his handgun and laid it on the table beside him.

"Perhaps a bit too well, Sir. I'm sure he would be proud" The smooth voice of the room's other living occupant held an amused tone to it. This man, much more colorful than the first, stood a few feet to the right of the table and his boss that still sat atop it. He looked at the older gentleman sitting at the head of the table; his cooling body slumped and a surprised look on his quickly paling face. A small trickle of blood seeped down the dead man's face from the wound that had killed him; a bullet between the eyes. Clean. Simple. A befitting end to a boring and uneventful reign.

The first man's laughter shattered the calm at his hit man's reply. Oh, but if daddy wasn't dead... The irony in his closest man's words hit a sour note with the young man even as he laughed at the ridiculousness of it all. His father had never been proud of his only son; born an albino, with a strange appearance and a strange voice.

His father had come to fear him, and rightly so. The man had even gone so far as to lock his only child in the mansion, keeping him mostly hidden from his business peers and partners. Of course he was known of by the higher ups of the underworld, one couldn't exactly hide a child, especially one of this particular young man's...creativity. Even as a young child he had been blood thirsty and ambitious, impossible to tame or keep locked away for long.

"Call a dinner party, Ichi!" The young man called out cheerfully in his lilting voice. "It's mah birthday after all, we gotta celebrate"

On this night, his twenty-first birthday, the albino would rightfully claim what was his. Father had promised him a branch of the family when he became a man. He knew the bribe had mostly been made to keep him quiet and well behaved, but now that he was done waiting for that time to come, he wanted more. A single branch wouldn't quench his thirst, not when he could push this mediocre mafia family to new heights.

He had done his homework and studied hard. He had learned how to handle the business side of the above ground and underground world. He had made connections and friends in both high and low places. He knew how the business of murder worked and he excelled in it. He also found that his appearances were startling to more than just his weak father and he had no problem putting them to use and taking advantage of other's surprise and unease. One had to work with what one had, yes?

"Of course, Don Shirosaki" Ichigo replied, a smile that nearly matched the young Don's rested on pink lips as he watched liquid gold eyes swirl in their sea of black. Haunting and beautiful. Shiro would go far. He was intelligent like his father was, but much more brutal and passionate. He wasn't afraid to go after what he wanted, wasn't afraid of who he had to step on to get there and he certainly wasn't afraid to get his hands dirty.

Ichigo silently vowed his loyalty to the pale Don as he left the room to announce the young man's birthday and begin preparations. Shirosaki would be well enough on his own for a few hours until the more dangerous of the guests began to arrive.

Shiro's smirk was firmly in place as he hopped off the table and scurried to his dead father's side. He threw one arm around the cooling body's slumped shoulders and rested his head on the high back of the chair it sat in, tucking his pistol back into the waist band of his slacks as he went.

"Well, daddy. Thanks so much fer the present! It's wha' I've always wanted" The albino said, his mocking enthusiasm making his watery voice sound even more lilting and singsong than normal. He reached over inside his father's black suit jacket and pulled the older man's cellphone from the pocket. Time to make some calls to all the higher ups of his family; now all much lower in ranking than he was and many of whom would not be holding their standing once he reorganized the way things ran.

He would leave the celebration and announcement planning to Ichigo. Being nearly the same age, he and the hit man had bonded rather well all things considered and he knew he could trust the intelligent, orange haired man.

Shiro had big plans for Ichigo. He refused to waste the man's talent and brains on simple hits any longer, like had been happening under his father's rule. Ichigo would become the first in his line of new hit men. Shiro had always loved the simple, perfect brutality of the military police canine units, and having been trained in a police academy once upon a time before he had decided most of the people he was saving didn't deserve it, Ichigo knew how the law enforcement's most effective weapon worked.

But Shirosaki had even larger ambitions than putting dogs to use. That was too simple for his tastes, too plain and boring. Dogs, while being wonderfully loyal beasts, were too easy to defeat. Sure, they were vicious and would run right to their deaths if their master so commanded, but he wanted to out do that. What would be able to out think, out smart it's opponent; whether that opponent be an animal, a person or even a hit man trained in the arts of killing? Why, another hit man, of course.

He planned on training two different types of hit men. He had already coined his terms and everything.

Ichigo would become the first of his Handlers. Doing much the same as a police animal handler would do, his Handlers would sick his other, more primal hit men on targets. They would be trained in the ways of normal hit men; killing and eliminating targets using the typical gun. They would be smart men and women, cunning and well educated. They would act as the negotiator for the two man teams; handling any talking, tracking, dealing or threatening that may be called for. Even act on his own behalf should the need arise.

His second type would be called Hunters. His Hunters would effectively be the dog; brutal, wild, vicious and fearless. Hunter's would be the muscle and fear factor behind his teams. They would do the killing and delivering of messages of the more bloody and unfriendly kinds. Hunters would be brutal men that would fearlessly run down a target, killing, maiming or anything else they were instructed to do. However, unlike a dog, they would have the intelligence and logic to be able to act on their own without commands when needed. They would have the cunning to out think their targets, to assess situations and deem the best way to proceed.

The Don straightened and ran his black nailed fingers through his snowy, unbound hair as he thought about the new hit men he would create and mold. He would have to make Ichigo his right hand man. The orangette was already his most trustworthy underling, it just made sense. It was unheard of for a mere hit man to be considered a second in command of sorts, but then, Shiro planned to upset the balance of the whole city.

After his party, where he would announce his father's retirement from the business and his stepping into the man's place as head of the family, Shiro would begin reworking his group of killers; selecting who would be staying and who would be following his father, then choosing who to make Handlers and who to make Hunters.

The albino patted his dead father's shoulder in an almost loving way, spun on his heel and practically danced out of the dining hall. He had to get ready for his party after all.

Within the hour, Ichigo had made all the necessary arrangements and phone calls, invitations were delivered via a personal call from the orangette and the dining hall was being redecorated in a style more befitting of the new Head of the family. The Don's father was carted away to be disposed of and the older man's family crest, a silver and onyx ring, now adorned Shirosaki's left thumb, the opposite hand as his father had worn it. While wearing the ring showed Shiro's leadership and standing in the family, the change in position was a symbol of the changes to come.

Another hour or so went by and the guests began arriving to the impromptu dinner party for the fairly small mafia family head's son. Little did they know that Shiro was no longer just the man's son, but his heir and the new Don. The guests, men and women of loyalty to and on friendly terms with the family, were treated to quite the change of venue.

The expensive, polished wooden floor of the mansion's dining hall had been replaced by black tile with the occasional rich violet tile, nearly black, interspersed through out. The once white walls had been repainted to a rich gray with intricately carved, black molding around the ceiling and for the chair rail. A white cloth, starkly contrasting with the dark feel and colors of the room, had been pressed and lain over the black, wooden table. The black chairs had high, arching backs and were also intricately carved. In the very center of the table, a sculpted black glass vase held long stem red roses and added a splash of sharp color. Over all, it was a stunningly beautiful, if not slightly intimidating looking room. A perfect match to the man they would soon learn was taking control.

Shirosaki himself finally made his appearance. His tailored, white suit was pristine. He wore a dark, silk button up under the white suit jacket, the top few buttons left open to reveal prominent collar bones and the very top of a toned, milky chest. A thin silver chain hung around his neck and his long, feathery locks had been tied back with a black silk ribbon at the base of his neck. A black rose had been placed in the breast pocket of his jacket and his haunting, liquid gold on black eyes were bright and intelligent. It was a startling look that people would come to associate with the ghostly, powerful man for years to come.

A sly smirk rested on colorless lips as Shiro approached the still empty chair at the head of the table, the chair that would have previously been reserved for his father. Murmurs erupted about the table as the albino took his place and crossed his hands on the table before him. He snapped his fingers before replacing them back on the table and servants began pouring a rich, red wine into the glasses resting before himself and his guests.

He always did like a good show, and what a performance it was turning out to be.

"What is the meaning of this?" One man spoke up from mid table, interrupting the quiet din of the murmured chatter.

"Is this some sort of joke? Is your father letting you play dress up for your birthday?" Another man asked, his voice full of contempt and his unhappiness at his precious time seemingly being wasted obvious.

The last comment had pale lips parting in a sneer before the albino calmed himself again, refrained from killing his guest, and spoke up from the head of the table. "I assure ya, sirs, this is no joke." His lilting voice silenced the room and commanded attention. "I am here ta announce my father's resignation from the business. Regrettably, he cannot make the party 'n person as he's dead."

The new Don's blunt words drew shocked gasps from the people around the table. From his place beside the entrance, dressed as one of the other servants, sharp brown eyes scanned the guests, keeping watch. No movement escaped his attention and Ichigo would insure the new Don was safe at his dinner party.

"However, tha's why I'm here. I will 'fficially be takin' his place as Don, effective immediately." The smirk was firmly back in place, consuming his ashen features. All of the people gathered around his table stared at him in varying degrees of shock and disbelief and Shiro basked in the attention.

Dinner was served in silence and it was several minutes before anyone ventured forth and spoke again. A man toward the opposite end of the table rose his glass of red wine in a toast and politely cleared his throat to gain everyone's attention.

"To good business and the new Don" The man's voice was quiet and sophisticated as he spoke, his slate grey eyes trained on the pale man that was hosting the party. He had never particularly cared for the young man's father and so the older man's death was unimportant to him. And who knew, maybe his heir wouldn't be quite so worthless.

"Here, here" Fiery gold locked with cool, calm grey and Shiro raised his own glass. He had a feeling this was the beginning of a very important partnership. Don Byakuya would be staying on his list of allies for the time being.

Dinner proceeded smoothly after that. The guests ate, drank and conversed in a civil manner, welcoming the new Don into the business and, of course, wishing him a happy birthday. Wisely, no one questioned the old don's sudden demise and business ventures were left for another time. The other dons didn't begin filtering out of the grand mansion until the city around them was beginning to stir with the coming sun.

Shiro stripped from his white suit jacket and untucked his dark, silk shirt, still managing to look formidable and powerful as he made his way toward his chambers. He sneered down at the wooden floor; another thing to add to his "to do" list.

He dropped onto his large bed, mind wandering to all the things he would surely change. He was going to begin work on his new family as soon as the sun began to fade once more. So much would change, not a trace of his father's influence would be left when he was done. The family would be his and in time, the city would fall under his command as well. He had high expectations and would not tolerate failure on his own part, nor anyone else's.

Rising with the next Dusk, Shirosaki had a crew in to strip the floors of his mansion, paying them double to work at night so that he could sleep during the day as he was used to. Wood was replaced with black and white patterned, marble tile. The white walls of the extensive halls were painted in rich, dark colors with white accents. The golden and crystal chandelier that had been hanging in the foyer was torn down and replaced with a silver fixture.

A smirk permanently plastered to his ashen features, Shiro entered the vast training room, shutting the door behind him. The heavy, reinforced door effectively blocked out most of the sounds of the renovations and with his mansion guard keeping an eye on the working construction crew, he was able to slip out and check on Ichigo's progress.

After giving the orangette his instructions, his number one hit man had set about deciding who was worthy of the which titles and eliminating whom he felt to be lacking for either title. Not much training would be needed for the remaining men and women to be able to fulfill their role as Hunter or Handler and though Shirosaki was left with a rather small group of teams, they were loyal, skilled killers one and all and he didn't foresee any problems with gaining more in the future.

The Don stood at the edge of the room and watched as his group of hit men trained and practiced, getting to know their new partner and getting used to the new way things were being ran. Over all, he was pleased with how things were progressing.

Over the next week or so, Don Shirosaki continued purging and trimming his staff. People were shuffled around, thrown into new roles. Some were eliminated, others were deemed sufficient and appropriate and were left where they were. The renovations to his mansion were completed and the building screamed of the albino's ownership inside and out. A couple of the new Hunter/Handler teams, including Ichigo and his partner were sent out on their first trials; tracking down the scum that dared set foot in Shiro's territory to do their dealing. The missions, while relatively simple, were a vast success and the young Don's name was mentioned in whispered conversations and spreading quickly throughout the city's underworld.

"Sir, you really should be paying attention." A stiff, reed thin man scolded the Don in a voice that spoke of superiority.

If Shiro didn't know better, the haughty tone would have set him off and the man would probably be dead and bleeding on the floor by now. Then he'd have to find a clean up crew to get rid of his accident and that was always a hassle. As it was, the Don tuned back into the conversation and answered his glorified secretary.

"I'm payin' attention ta the important parts, Ishida. Ain't my fault yer borin'." He grumbled to the man, haunting eyes drifting up to look him in the face.

Ishida did a hell of a job at keeping things organized and did great at ordering his agenda and day job crap, but the man really did talk way too much. They were currently going over the status of the various teams he had out in the city; success rates, hits, gathered information, etc. He already knew his teams of hit men were doing flawless work. They had had only one serious injury, and considering they were playing in the big leagues with big names that was a damn good ratio. To top it off, the Hunter lived and would be back in the field soon with nothing more than a few stitches and a pretty new scar.

The Don watched his book keeper's lips continue to move for a few more seconds before going back to his meal and trying desperately to at least pay a little bit of attention to what the man was saying.

"Oh, and you should probably warn your men, there is apparently an escaped murderer on the loose. Do be careful while venturing out of the mansion."

Of all the things for him to tune into... Was Ishida being serious? Shiro shook his head and glanced back up at his secretary. "Ya realize ya work fer a murderer, right? That tha's what we do fer a livin'?"

"Yes, Sir. I do, what is your point?" Ishida asked, pushing his wireframe glasses back up his narrow nose as he looked down at his boss.

"Jus' checkin'. Don' think we have much ta worry about." The albino said, pushing his plate back and draping his white, cloth napkin across what was left of his meal. "If some common killer manages ta get one a my guys, I'll offer 'im a job." He mumbled absently as he stood and began leaving the dining room.

"You do realize you and your men are not invincible, right Sir?" The black haired man asked, clutching the reports at his side as he followed after the young Don. Sometimes he wondered why he had ever accepted the offer to work for this man, but he couldn't deny that he would never leave Shirosaki's side. The man had a strange way of commanding loyalty that he would never understand.

"Yeah, still workin' on tha' one." Shiro answered, walking down the extensive halls of his mansion. "Thinkin' bout hirin' this doctor scientist guy I've been lookin' in ta. Guess he lost his practice license fer testin' on patients er somethin'." The albino shrugged as he kept talking. "We'll need someone tha' can do better 'en the old guy my father had under his employ. He's got pink hair though" Shiro shrugged again and didn't pay attention to the slightly stunned face his secretary was directing his way.

"You've got to be kidding me." The man mumbled, rolling his eyes and pushing his glasses back up again.

"Nah, swear it's actually pink." Shiro said, knowing what the man was really exasperated over, but finding it all too amusing to toy with him anyway. While he was at it, he wondered if Ishida was seriously going to follow him to his private bathroom that was connected to his bedroom, because that's where he was headed and the man was still glued to his side.

"That's not what I meant. You can't seriously think this doctor will be able to make your men invincible...please tell me you are not quite that insane just yet."

Shiro's lilting laughter echoed down the empty halls. "Nah, I was just fuckin' wit' ya, Ishida. Ya need ta get laid and loosen up. Now, if ya 'xcuse me, gotta use the boys room" Shiro pushed the door to his personal washroom open, a wide grin marring his ashen lips as Ishida's features went slack and his dark brows shot to his hair line.

As soon as he realized where he was, the secretary promptly turned on his heal and practically marched out the Don's chambers. The albino's watery laughter followed him out the door.

Still chuckling to himself, the Don exited his private rooms a few minutes later to find Ishida standing in the hall; his face a very light shade of red and looking a little more exasperated than normal but still ready to continue his reports. Sighing to himself, Shiro put on his typical smirk and gestured for the secretary to continue while he continued to wander the halls, vaguely headed in the direction of his office.

"Where were we?" Ishida asked, the rhetorical question more of a way to focus himself rather than needing an answer. "Ah, yes. The final thing I was going to say; your top team is due back any minute, they have been instructed to meet you in your office per usual."

"Time?" Shiro asked, instantly perking up at the news that his team was already back, a job done and another target out of the way.

Ishida checked his papers, then his watch. "Four hours and thirty-six minutes, Sir."

The Don's smirk morphed into a grin, pale lips curling in delight at the news. "Damn. Tha' team's gettin' fast" Just over four hours to hunt and track down the target, corner and eliminate the man was a pretty damn good time. Especially since Ichigo's team had moved passed the smaller gang hits and onto actual mafia related persons. Shiro hadn't even given the team a location, they started out with only a name and description of the target.

"Yes, Sir. I suppose that is why they are your number one team." The raven haired man replied in a stiff tone, still pacing his boss as they traversed the corridors of the young man's mansion.

"I suppose yer right" Shiro stopped in front of his office, grin still firmly in place as he opened the door to find Ichigo and his Hunter already seated in front of his desk, waiting for him.

In the end, Ichigo had selected his own partner and so far it seemed to have been working quite well. The man was a small giant at nearly six and half feet tall and the heavily muscled build of a boxer. His intimidating size did nothing to make him look like the killer he was, however. Soft brown eyes, partially hidden behind a curtain of wavy brown hair, turned toward Shirosaki as he entered. The Hunter, Sado by name, didn't look like he could harm a kitten but when under the right instructions, he could really let loose. Ichigo seemed to be good at finding that side of the gentle giant.

Shiro turned back to his secretary with final instructions as he entered his office. "B'fore ya go, Ishida. Call up tha' doctor scientist guy wit' the pink hair. I was serious 'bout offerin' him a job."

"Of course, Sir." Ishida bowed slightly and backed away from the door's threshold before turning to disappear down the hall.

"Welcome back, boys. Yer hunt wen' well?" The Don asked, lowering himself into his office chair and propping his white, dress shoe clad feet up on the desktop.

"As always, Sir" The Handler answered, his voice smooth and confident. Beside him, the silent Hunter nodded slightly in agreement. "The information was successfully extracted and the target eliminated."

"Excellent. And the message was delivered?" The Don crossed his arms behind his head and leaned back as he spoke to his hit men.

Ichigo let a smile, nearly a match to his boss', slide across his features. "Left on his very door step, Sir"

Shirosaki erupted into cackling laughter. "Tha's perfect, well done. Enjoy the rest a yer evenin" He dismissed them with a wave and watched as his number one team exited his office.

All that was left now was to await the other don's reply. Shiro had given the man an ultimatum; merge or be forcefully ousted. The albino was after more territory and the other don, while being on relatively friendly terms with Shiro, was in his way. Don Shirosaki hopped for an agreement, he really did, but he wouldn't be upset if he had to shoot the man and he was prepared for either out come. He had send a list of instructions with the target that was left on the rival's door step. He was to reply with an answer before the week was up, else Shiro would declare their truce over and begin the process of eliminating the obstacle from his path.

"Chado, head to the front gates! I'll meet you there!"

Ashen brows creased and Shiro dropped his feet back to the ground as the Handler he had dismissed only minutes ago burst through the door.

"Sir! There's been a breach at the front gates" Ichigo informed the Don. Guards ran passed the door behind him, headed toward the front entrance of the mansion.

"How many?" Smirk gone from his pale features, the albino climbed to his feet and swiftly followed his Handler. He had yet to have any problems of this sort since he took control, but he wasn't surprised. Someone was bound to think he and his estate an easy target what with him being so young and new to the role of leader. The intruders were in for a surprise.

"Unconfirmed. The alarm was shut off and the guard killed before he could finish radioing in." Ichigo told the albino as they met up with his Hunter at the large double doors that led into the mansion. Door men opened them up for the young Don and his team.

Guards were already scouring the grounds, searching for the intruders. More guards ringed the entrance stairway, insuring the mansion it's self wasn't breached. The captan turned to glance up at the Don as he emerged, he gave a quick nod of acknowledgment before going back to his duties. All was silent as the city slept around them, the only noise to break the peaceful night was a few sirens in the distance, certainly nothing out of the ordinary for a big city.

Shirosaki watched everything proceed for a few minutes, pleased that his henchmen were well organized and doing as they were supposed too. However, as the minutes ticked by and the only sign of the intruders was a single quickly cut off yell from somewhere in the darkened grounds, the Don quickly became impatient. Stuffing his pale hands into the pockets of his equally white slacks, Shiro casually walked down the wide set of stairs and between the ring of guards, his number one team following behind him as he disappeared into the darkened night.

The captan of his mansion guard looked as though he wanted to stop the Don, but wisely kept his mouth shut and settled for following after the man instead, weapon in hand.

The Don walked right up to his towering, wrought iron front gates. Frowning, he noted they were closed and locked still. He walked down the permitter, pausing after making it several meters away from the driveway as his Handler spoke up.

"Sir, there's blood over here." Ichigo studied the red splatter, barely visible in the dark. Orange brows creased as he stood from his crouch. The pattern the substance made on the grass was a bit off, leading him to believe whoever had been injured was attempting to stem the flow. It also looked partially clotted, meaning it hadn't been made with in the last few minutes and had to have been one of the intruder's blood from a wound made before breaking in. What could make an injured man enter the grounds of a powerful mafia family?

As the Don made his way over, Ichigo peered up at the top edge of the piked fence. More of the blood was coating a few of the bars in different places with sticky, smeared hand prints.

"The bastards climbed my fence." Shiro muttered as he turned away from the barrier. He'd have to address that issue after the intruders were caught. At least it must have been difficult to find purchase on smooth metal while one's hands were slicked with blood.

A few guards trooped passed them, the body of one of their own being carried between them. Shirosaki caught a glimpse of a rather nasty looking wound across the dead man's torso and blood stained the lower half of the bodies face.

While Ichigo and Sado were investigating the blood trail and the guard captan had followed after his dead man, the Don made his way in the direction his guards had come. Why the hell was it taking so damn long for his men to do their jobs?

Unamused, the Don sneered in the darkness and rounded the corner of a decorative hedge. He wandered if he would have to kill the intruders himself, and maybe a few of his guards as well. Light from a nearly full moon cast the considerable front yard in deep shadows and the grass shown slightly from a dusting of moisture.

Pausing, he cocked his head slightly and listened when he thought he caught the sound of controlled, quiet panting. The sound stopped nearly as soon as he realized what it was and the albino cautiously and quietly rounded the next piece of landscaping in his line of sight, drawing his gun as he did so.

Faster than he could react, a dark shadow flashed out from behind the shrub he had just passed. A deep, rumbling snarl sounded from directly behind the Don and a large body pressed against his. One big hand grasped around his wrist, holding him from fully pulling his weapon from the waist band of his slacks. Another hand snaked around in front of him to flash a gleaming, blood drenched blade in his vision to silently deliver the threat it imposed.

Panic flashed through the Don's system before he forced it to the back of his mind. He had quite literally walked right passed the man now holding him captive and had not even seen him. He sneered at how easily he had been caught and how good at this game the man seemed. Forcing himself to calm down, Shiro nodded his understanding and the blade was lowered away from his face and pressed lightly against his pale throat.

The Don started to release the weapon his assailant now knew about but the fingers curled around his wrist tightened, forcing him to keep his hand behind his back and the gun still firmly tucked into his pants; a dangerous place for the Don and his attacker both, should it go off between them. Keeping his movements to a minimum and slow, he eased his finger off the trigger. The growling, primal and savage, vibrated through his back where the beast of a man was pressed against him and Shiro froze. He could hear the man forcing his breathing to stay at even intervals, the breaths puffing out his flared nostrils in short pants.

He noted the way the man limped and sagged ever so slightly when he began pulling Shiro backward and into the deeper shadows around the hedges but quickly dismissed it as another sound snagged his attention.

"Sir?" Ichigo's smooth voice rang out in the quiet darkness, a curious tone to it. When he failed to answer the Handler's call, his hit man called for him again, a little louder and with a little more intensity. "Don Shirosaki?"

Shiro hesitated, feeling the man behind him tense slightly at his title. "Over here, Ichi" He called back carefully. He kept his voice quiet and even, so that only his Handler would hear him and hopefully his capture wouldn't freak out on him.

The Don felt the man's arm tighten, the point of his blade pressed a bit tighter against his throat, but he also noticed something else. The man wasn't just out of breath as he had previously assumed, the blood on his fence must have been this man's. The arm wrapped around his throat was coated in it, still warm and sticky and he could guess that the back of his suit jacket would come away stained red as well.

"Why would you run off by..." Ichigo's words died in his throat as he rounded a corner in the elaborately trimmed hedges. At first he could only see his pale boss in the dark shadows, but it quickly became obvious he wasn't alone and the Handler dropped back a step and pulled his gun free in one smooth motion.

The man holding his boss growled and Ichigo would have thought it an animal had he not seen the flash of white teeth next to the Don's face. Blood was smeared across the shoulder and chest of the albino's suit, dark crimson greatly contrasting with the expensive white fabric.

"Shiro, are you injured?" Ichigo asked in a calm, careful voice, titles forgotten as he scrambled his brain for a way to save the young man he had befriended before he had become the Don.

"I'm fine, Ichi. 's not my blood." Shirosaki answered, realizing what his hit man must have been focusing on. The man behind him tensed up as the two spoke, but remained admirably calm and controlled for a man in his position. The hand wrapped around his wrist loosened slightly, further proof of the man's injury and weakening state.

Shirosaki kept his vision trained on the orangette as he thought about what to do next. Having helped train his hit men a series of simple, silent codes, Shirosaki's gold on black eyes widened when he watched Ichigo casually shift his stance. He did his best to remain still, hoping the man behind him wouldn't catch on to what was happening. Ichigo was giving his Hunter commands.

A very slight rustle of the grass and leaves to his left had Shiro diving to the ground as Sado dove at the man holding him. The Hunter's larger body size forced the Don's assailant into releasing his hold and spin to meet the new threat head on. A grunt reached his ears, though from which of the struggling men neither Shiro nor Ichigo knew.

A deep growl erupted from the intruder's throat and Shirosaki drew his own weapon and aimed at the shadowed forms. The injured man was finally dragged to the ground, blood quickly smearing through the grass as he and the Hunter fought each other.

Ichigo finally had enough. The stranger was too good, even injured. His Hunter was being over powered and the man still held his gleamed dagger in hand while Chado was unarmed. Taking aim, the Handler grimaced as he realized he wouldn't be able to safely hit the intruder with a deadly shot. However, he deemed injuring the man may be enough to down him at the moment. He pulled the trigger.

As the shot shattered the silence and echoed through out the grounds, the Hunter fell still. A moment passed and he cautiously climbed to his feet and backed a few steps away from the dangerous, injured man before him.

Guards, attracted by the sound of fighting and the gun shot, swarmed the area. Eyes never leaving the shadowed form on the ground, Shiro simply raised a pale hand in the air and they all paused, giving the intruder a wide enough birth. He watched as the man struggled to get his feet under him, a strangled, furious growl escaping his throat. The strange man managed to get to his feet, chest heaving as he tried to take a step only to nearly fall to the ground once more.

As he stumbled from the deep shadows, the Don was graced with a view of the man's appearances for the first time.

Angular features tensed and scrunched as the man bared perfect white teeth in what was more than likely pain and threat combined. A big hand still clutched at the dangerous blade, but the weapon was held limply at his side. The man wore nothing but torn, faded and stained jeans. Golden skin covering bulging, finely honed muscle was slicked and smeared with dirt and blood, the origin of which was impossible to guess in the dark. However, what stood out the most was the man's intense, unwavering, cyan gaze as it locked onto Shiro's own, dancing with primal rage.

The man's eyes flicked away from the Don, flitting over the armed men surrounding him. Shiro could see the man calculating and thinking before he sneered and finally let his blade fall to stick upright in the ground at his feet, sharp point imbedded in the soft soil. The gesture was one of surrender but the man's vivid cerulean eyes still held a defiant look that intrigued the albino.

The Don tucked his gun back into it's place and glanced down at his ruined suit before glancing back to the intruder. He tilted his head slightly as he studied the man, who seemed to be studying him in return. "Yer the only one, ain't ya?"

The man hesitated before nodding his head once in answer to the question. He did well at hiding a grimace but wrapped a blood smeared arm around his wounded torso as he held gazes with the pale man.

Shirosaki knew it to be an honest answer. So the man was alone, no partners in the area. He had already been injured before he broke in and he was one hell of a fighter. The Don didn't believe he could have been sent after him. In fact, it seemed the man hadn't even known who's estate he was breaking into. The albino took his time in mauling things over before coming to a conclusion. A smirk curled his lips up and he imagined Ishida throwing a fit about him offering a job to an escaped murder.

"Don't suppose ya wan' a job, do ya?"

* * *

><p><strong>I am having way too much fun with this story...<br>Oh well~ Let me know what you think!  
><strong>


	2. Chapter 2

**Thanks for all the reviews, faves, +alerts, etc guys! The responses to the first chapter have been amazing~**

**Anyway, on to chapter 2! I swear...if I'm not writing blood and gore or smut it takes me forever to get a chapter written...**  
><strong>Enjoy!<strong>

* * *

><p>Standing in the hall of his mansion, Don Shirosaki leaned against the wall and peered through the one way mirror into one of his interrogation rooms turned hospital ward. A gurney had been drug in, as well as a few other necessities for the doctor to do his job. The single occupant lay upon the gurney, the sedative beginning to wear off as the doctor tapped on the door to be let out.<p>

The Don opened the door and the man joined him in the hallway, pulling off blood smeared, latex gloves as he did so.

Of course, Shiro had a perfectly good hospital room in the mansion, a couple actually, but he had decided to use this room for a make shift recovery room because he could lock it from the outside and the occupant, the man that had broken into his grounds the night before, wouldn't be able to get out.

"So I take it this means yer takin' me up on my offer?" The albino asked the man standing beside him, also peering into the room now.

A smirk slowly spread across the man's fair features as he tossed pink hair from his face with a delicate hand. "Have I a choice, Sir?" Amber eyes gleamed from behind the man's glasses; intrigue and amusement swirling through their depths. They held a crazed edge, but one not born of fear. Rather, it was an insanity born of being trapped and confined by those around him, those of normal society, for far too long.

Shiro snorted, his own smirk eating his features as he watched the intruder slowly awaken. "Not really. Welcome ta the business, Mr. Granz"

"Please, call me Szayel" The man said, smiling as he watched the wonderful specimen he had just had the fortune to work on. The pale man beside him, his new boss, was a man that welcomed the side of him that most feared. Here, in the young Don's growing world, he would be allowed to experiment and learn without hinderance, nor would he have to worry about his practice license any longer, or money to fund his experimentation. He wouldn't even have to pretend to have some semblance of a moral code any longer. This new profession would suit him just fine.

The two watched as blue brows furrowed and a slight, groggy groan escaped the man's throat, muffled by the thick mirrored glass but still audible through the speakers that allowed for easy supervising of what would normally be less friendly and life saving activities.

Intense, impossibly blue eyes snapped open to stare at the white ceiling for a moment. The haze of the sedative quickly cleared and the intruder bolted upright in the hospital bed. A thickly corded arm wrapped protectively around the man's no doubt aching abdomen but he made no move to sit still. A growl loosened from his clenched jaws and the man pushed himself off the gurney, tearing the IV from his other arm without a moment's hesitation.

"What an intriguing and gorgeous specimen" Szayel, the new doctor of Shiro's mafia family, stated. He watched the man's every movement; studying, dissecting, observing. Szayel had, out of his own and the Don's curiosity, found that the man's odd hair color was natural. It was obvious the man held being fit and staying in shape at top priority and as he straightened away from the gurney, even under the numbing influence of the sedative that was still working it's way through his system, the doctor could see a finely honed and practiced ease of movement and grace. All things he added to his mental inventory of the man.

Beside him, Shirosaki nodded his agreement before he was distracted by an angry huff from his secretary as the man stormed down the hall after him.

"Pardon me, Sir, but what the hell is wrong with you? Are you truly insane? This man is being searched for by the police and you invite him... no, no, you drag him into the mansion?" Ishida was positive his boss had lost it, whatever mental stability the albino had left must have fled the night before.

Having a police fugitive any where near them could bring down their entire operation. The mafia worked by bending the rules and laws, the police already knew of them, knew what they did but they couldn't prove it. But now they were harboring an escaped murder, a man the police had been chasing after for the better part of a week. The man was at top priority; the police force had even been given permission to out right kill him if they couldn't capture him. They had shot him, two bullets to the lower chest and still he had gotten away, only to end up hopping the Don's fence. As if the blood trail leading in their direction wasn't bad enough, Shirosaki had taken the man in! And, what was worse, had him sewn up!

"...He's not some stray kitten, he's a murderer..."

Shirosaki listened to his secretary's rant, tuning the majority of it out like usual, a wide smirk consuming his pale features. It seemed the raven haired man would never learn. Shiro did not play by the rules; not by society's rules, not even by the mafia's rules. The only rules he followed were his own and he made them up as he went so that he would always win. "Ishida"

"...Have you any idea just how dangerous this is?" Ishida continued. He was furious and the Don's recklessness would get them in serious trouble.

"Ishida!" Shiro snarled out at his secretary, his manic temper beginning to get the better of him. The secretary was great at what he did, but he was just a secretary and no one spoke to the Don like that.

Ishida finally stopped, dark eyes widening slightly as he realized his mistake before he pushed his glasses up his straight nose with a thin finger and took on the mantle of obedient secretary once again. "Yes, Sir?"

"Shut it. Go do the job I pay ya for an' le' me handle runnin' the business, yeah?" Shiro all too calmly pulled a cigarette from the inside pocket of his clean, white suit jacket and lit up as he addressed the man. "Szayel here comes wit' perks. He's got a crew tha's already cleaned up the evidence of the guy's arrival on my front lawn. The police can speculate all they like, but till they got actual proof, they can' en'er the grounds."

Ishida cleared his throat quietly, shifting slightly where he stood. "Very good, Sir" He quickly turned and headed back in the direction he had come. Of course Shirosaki would have already taken care of everything. He was young, but he knew what he was doing, there was a reason rivals were already speaking his name in whispered conversation. The raven haired man shook his head slightly as he turned a corner; he really shouldn't be underestimating his boss.

Shiro turned back to the injured man. Now that he was under better lighting, he seemed even more wild and untamed than he had the night before. Unruly, blue hair crowned his head, looking as though it hadn't seen a comb in weeks and yet looking perfect all the same. Teal marks framed the corners of electric blue eyes. His perfect, white teeth were bared in an angry snarl as he began tearing at the white bandage wrapped around his torso.

Surprise flitted across angular, strong features as the man checked himself over, gingerly running his fingers over the expertly stitched up bullet wounds; two to his lower chest from the police and one in his shoulder from Ichigo. His hand dropped to his side and his piercing gaze snapped to the large mirror running the length of the wall, next to the only door leading in or out.

At first, Shirosaki believed the man to simply be looking at his own reflection. As he watched from the window side of the one way mirror, a pale brow arched as he realized the man's eyes weren't focused enough to be looking at himself. He was looking at the mirror it's self, trying to see through it, beyond it.

The Don breathed out a ring of smoke through his nostrils and pulled his phone from his pocket as he and the doctor continued to watch the man. The other end of the call rang once before being picked up. "He's awake."

"On my way, Sir" Came the smooth answer.

The call was ended and Shiro dropped his phone back into his pocket, golden eyes never leaving the strange man in the other room. The man began pacing through the small room, not unlike a caged animal. His restlessness and unease were obvious, but not a trace of fear shown in any of his graceful, fluid movements. He held the aura of a trapped predator simply waiting for the cage door to open so that he might spring on whatever was on the other side.

Mere minutes after Shiro had ended the phone call, his top Handler and the man's Hunter came to stand beside him. He let the team study the man for a moment; watching the way he moved and acted, size him up and prepare for whatever may happen.

The man ceased his pacing and came to halt before the mirror. Blue brows furrowed as he looked at it. "I know your watching." The voice was thick and rich; deep like a roiling storm, smooth yet grating at the same time.

It was the first the man had spoken since entering the Don's grounds and it took the four men watching him by surprise. Without further hesitation, Shirosaki made his way to the door and typed the code into the keypad by the lock, dismissing Szayel as he did.

Ichigo, with his gun drawn though not trained on the bluenette, was the first to enter the room. The stranger backed away as he passed through the door, but more anger than fear showed in his ready stance and expressive gaze. The orange haired hit man let his gaze linger and took in the man's appearance.

The stranger was tall, over six feet but not quite as tall as Chado. His bare arms and torso were thickly corded with taut, lean muscle; the build of an active, predatory man. The stitched bullet wounds seemed to hardly bother him, as though he hardly felt them or was used to taking injuries. He must have had a high pain tolerance. The man's other worldly blue eyes danced over the forms of everyone about to enter the room; cold, calculating and intelligent, but they finally settled upon the hit man and Ichigo shivered slightly under their intensity.

The Hunter followed after his Handler and the two fanned out to the sides, effectively surrounding the dangerous captive while letting the Don enter the room. All the while, the man watched them, alert and wary, yet seemingly curious.

Shirosaki stood at the door way, his hands shoved casually into the pockets of his white dress slacks, the edges of his white jacket pushed behind his arms and out of his way, revealing more of his dark violet button up shirt. The cherry of his cigarette, perched between snowy lips, glowed hotly as he took a drag before slowly releasing the bluish smoke through his nostrils as he watched the intruder.

After finding that the man could indeed speak, he had been expecting questions once he entered. He knew the man could tell he was at the top of the chain around here. The seconds stretched to minutes of silence before the Don decided to make the first move.

"Guess I'll start, then. Ya mind answerin' a few questions?" He asked in a watery, lilting voice. Not that the man really had any choice in the matter, but he liked to play with his prey when he got the chance and did well at coming off as a gentlemen and making people feel at ease. A strange gentlemen, but one nonetheless.

A single blue brow arched fractionally, an almost dry look crossing angular features. The bluenette shrugged in a seemingly carefree manner but his calm gaze never left the dangerous albino, looking for any signs of trouble or foul play.

"Mind tellin' me yer name? Like ta know who I'm talkin' ta" Shiro said, pulling one hand out of his pocket to pluck the stick from between his teeth as he spoke.

Full lips pulled back in a sneer, the tips of what seemed to be a bit too sharp canines showing in answer. He calculated his risks and deemed it unwise to provoke or attack any of the men in the small room. He didn't have a weapon, he didn't have room to maneuver and even if he could get rid of these three and get out, he would never make it out of the mansion.

"Hmm, guess tha's a no." The Don said, putting the cigarette out on the cement wall of the makeshift hospital room before dropping it. He would have the whole room cleaned later anyway, after they figured out what to do with the stranger. "Alright. How bout ya tell me wha' ya were doin' on my property. The big gates and guards tend ta keep unwanted comp'ny out."

He received a snort in answer and the room was quiet for a moment longer. The albino, temper beginning to flare as he got impatient and annoyed, was about to begin speaking again, most likely a threat, when the man finally found his voice.

"That's kind of what I was hoping for. I was only meaning to pass through and slip out the back." The deep voice was quiet but not out of fear. It was a quiet that spoke of calm confidence.

"Ya were runnin', yeah?" Shiro asked, his anger gone once again and a smirk back. "What ya got ta run from?"

"Does it matter?" The man asked the Don in return. The albino had to be as crooked as they came, he was the Don of a mafia family after all.

"S'ppose it don'." He liked the blue haired stranger already. He watched the man's reactions closely as they spoke. He had already deemed that he knew what he was doing the night before and the bluenette's aura of ease even in a tense and potentially deadly situation further proved what the Don had been thinking. "We both deal in the business a death, after all."

This man would make the perfect Hunter.

Several hours and a long, mostly one sided conversation later saw the bluenette, Shiro and his favored team making their way through the elaborate corridors of the mansion. The intruder had been given a change of clean clothing; jeans and a black t-shirt, and was walking at Don Shirosaki's side while the pale man explained how his team of Hunters and Handlers worked. Ichigo and Chado flanked the two men, watching the way the blue haired man interacted with their boss and making sure Shiro was safe near the man.

He followed along next to the Don, his hands shoved into the front pockets of his jeans and his stride sure and unworried but his movements were still cautious and measured. He seemed to understand that his every move was being watched and knew that anything that could be perceived as a threat would be seen as such and would be dealt with accordingly by the hit men in his shadow.

Shirosaki led the way to the training wing, the corridor angled on a slightly descending slope so that by the time they reached the wide double doors at the very end they were completely below ground. Throwing the thick, reinforced doors to the room open revealed a large, empty space used for sparring and target practice. Two men dancing around each other, already sweat slicked and panting slightly, paused to look at the men entering the room. They bowed respectfully to the Don before continuing their hand to hand sparring match without a word.

Out of the corner of his inverted eyes, Shiro watched a slight, delighted smirk tilt the corners full lips and a wide grin spread across his own features. Maybe it would be easier than he had thought to persuade the bluenette to join him.

"Wha' a ya say ta a match, Blue?" Shiro asked the bluenette. He watched a deranged grin finish consuming the lower half of the man's face, showing commercial worthy teeth before blue brows pulled together and the grin fell away.

"Against you?" He asked, the incredulity in his deep, satiny voice obvious. He couldn't believe the Don would pit himself against someone he didn't know and could likely try to kill him. He had to admit, at least to himself, that the albino looked as though he could take care of himself and probably would have put up a much better fight the night before had he not gotten the drop on the Don. "You looking for a rematch already?"

Shirosaki's watery laughter echoed about the room; the only sound since the two men sparing had quite after hearing the Don question the intruder. "As much as I'd like tha', I ha' someone else in mind fer ya. Save yer rematch fer 'nother time"

"Shall I call him in, Sir?" Ichigo spoke up from where he still stood a few feet behind the two. A nod from the Don was his answer and the orange haired man pulled his phone from his pocket and dialed.

They had a Handler that had yet to be paired off with a partner. He was a bit of a special case, making it hard to find a Hunter for him. He was small, but had one hell of a shot. He was almost on par with Ichigo and the Don himself, the family's two best gun men. His size posed a bit of a problem, as he was quite a bit smaller than most of the people under Shiro's employ, but what he lacked in size he made up for in speed and the Don felt he may be able to compliment the blue haired man's brute strength quite well.

Moments later, the unpaired Handler made his appearance. An over confident smirk toyed at thin lips as he walked right up to the Don, eyeing the bigger man he knew he was to be paired against. His short, uneven black hair bobbed as he tilted his head and studied the bluenette. He raised one his hands to his chin in a mock display of contemplation, the over long white sleeve of his shirt falling down his arm and away from his hand. "Oh, he's kinda cute, boss"

A single, ashen brow rose as Shiro looked down at the petite Handler, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. If the man wasn't such a great shot, he would have retired the little cocky shit weeks ago. As it was, he was still working out the kinks in his new system and needed the man power.

"Yeah? Well don' let 'im kick the shit outta ya coz yer too busy starin'." The Don said, taking a few steps back away from the two men and hardly concealing the contempt in his voice. It was clear he was done talking and ready for the fight to begin.

"You know better than that, boss" The effeminate man said as he confidently turned his back on the bigger blue haired man and walked off a few feet, to where the other men had been sparring.

"Yeah yeah. Don' go easy on 'im, Luppi. 'm hopin' he'll end up bein' yer partner."

Luppi giggled behind his sleeve but bowed a low, exaggerated bow to the Don. "Of course, Sir" He dropped into a defensive crouch, effectively making himself seem even smaller than he already was and waved the big blue haired man forward.

Blue brows creased but the man walked toward the smaller male all the same. As soon as he was within striking range, Luppi darted forward. Testing the waters, he landed a light hit to the man's abdomen and was back out of reach before the bluenette could react. Grunting quietly from the hit, a sneer appeared on the bluenette's features as he stalked toward the smaller man.

Luppi didn't have much weight to back up his blows, but his quickness and wit made him more of a worthy opponent than he seemed. It was almost like fighting against more than one guy and after several minutes, both combatants were panting from throwing strikes, blocking others and defending against each other.

Figuring that this was only a sparring match, the bluenette refrained from letting loose too much, managing to land a few blows of his own but not doing any real damage. He knew himself too well and was fully aware of what happened when he let go, it was the reason he was on the run in the first place; he had one hell of a temper that no one could control. He blocked a small fist, receiving another to his rib cage for the distraction. He growled, a low rumble in his throat, desperately wanting to go full out but not wanting to earn a bullet for beating the small prick to a pulp in front of the Don.

"Come on now, I can tell you're holding back." Luppi danced around the bigger man, staying on the balls of his feet as he grinned. "Maybe you really just don't know how to fight"

The comment pulled another sneer from the man but he still didn't take the bate and continued to block most of Luppi's hits. The smaller man sent a quick, spinning kick at the big man's abdomen. When his leg was grabbed and his momentum reversed, he hopped up and planted his other foot, using his new angle to send a fist into the solidly built chest before him.

With the bluenette still wearing the borrowed shirt, Luppi failed to see the fresh wound he was inadvertently aiming for, not that it would have stopped him. It did, however, bring a pained grunt from the injured man's throat. The quiet sound was followed by a snarl and blue eyes began to dance with the same fire Shiro and his team had witnessed the night before.

"Ah, that's better" Luppi rushed the bigger man, his confidence apparent as he sent several consecutive shots toward the area he had hit before. One of his fists slipped through a gap in the blue haired man's defenses and before the snarl had died from full lips, Luppi was staring at the ceiling.

He frowned and began climbing to his feet. Before he was fully ready again, the bluenette pounced with more grace than someone his size should have. Luppi fell back into a crouch and raised his arms in an attempt to block the bigger man's fists. He dodged and managed to get around the man, darting back in from the side. He was met with an angry growl that could have scared the meanest guard dog.

As Ichigo, his Hunter and the Don watched, the bigger man grabbed hold of the fist connecting with his solid body. He yanked Luppi forward even as he struck out with his other hand, knocking the smaller man to the ground with ease and smearing blood across the lower half of Luppi's face.

He was upon the smaller Handler faster than the untrained eye would have seen and Ichigo leapt into action as a big fist smacked into the smaller man's face again. Luppi raised his hands to cover his head and tried desperately to command the man to stop, his Handler training kicking in even though he wasn't dealing with a trained Hunter.

Coming back to his senses, one hand fisted in short black hair and yanking Luppi's head back, the man halted mid swing just as the orange haired man slid to a halt at his side, prepared to haul him away if need be. Blue eyes glanced up at the orangette and locked with rich brown, then slid to the Don before the man finally released his smaller opponent and righted himself, dusting the dirt from his jeans and forcing some of his battle lust away.

Luppi climbed to his feet, holding his face but under his own power and was only a slight bit unbalanced. He stared at the bigger man's back for a moment before confidently strolling passed him to stand before the Don.

"Wha' ya think, Luppi?" Shiro asked the smaller man, a wide grin creasing his snowy features. Not only was he happy with the short fight he got to see the blue haired man engage in, but it was a bonus that he had won and done so quickly once going.

With a quick nod, Luppi walked passed him and out the door. The Don snorted a laugh and addressed the blue haired man. "Well? Wha' bout you? You never did tell me if ya were in'erested in a job"

A slightly unhinged grin consumed the bluenette's handsome features yet again but before he could give answer, the Don's phone rang and pulled a scowl from the albino.

Shiro lifted the devise to his ear, biting out a quick "Wha'dya want?". Angry at being interrupted, his lip curled and mood only worsened when it was Ishida on the other end with bad news. Well, more just annoying news than anything.

"What da ya mean, 'finally'? S'not like ya've been callin' all damn day." Shiro said into the phone, his eyes still trained on the blue haired man he was hoping to make a Hunter in a few minutes. "Fuck. I'll be up in a minute... No. Keep 'em on the front steps."

Not able to hear the other side of the Don's conversation, Ichigo motioned for his Hunter and the new guy to follow after him as he walked with Shirosaki out into the hall. The Don's pace only became faster as he continued talking.

"They got a warrant?" He asked, adjusting his dark, silk button up and straightening his white tailored jacket. "Yeah, comin' down the hall now." Shiro flipped his phone closed and dropped it back into the pocket of his slacks. He double checked that his gun was well hidden before rounding a corner in the hallway. He turned and sent a look to Ichigo that told his favored man all he needed to know before disappearing into the foyer and approaching the opened door.

Ichigo reached out and grabbed hold of the bluenette's arm, keeping him from following the Don further. The man spun around and pinned him with a threatening look but the glare didn't last long and he nodded his understanding before turning back in the direction the albino had disappeared.

"Wha' can I do fer ya, gentlemen?" The Don's lilting voice carried to them softly as he addressed the unwanted visitors at his door step.

He had purposefully left the door an inch or two ajar for a couple reasons, the first being so that it would appear he had nothing inside to hide. Even though the police knew of his association to the mafia, they couldn't prove it and leaving the door open for them to peek only helped to solidify his appearance of innocence. The second reason was to allow his men to hear what was going on, should the police surprise him with the warrant Ishida had told him they didn't have and he had to let them in, Ichigo would be able to get the blue haired man he knew to be in question out of sight.

"Are you Mr. Shirosaki Ogichi? Owner of this... home?" One of the officers asked, his voice muffled by the heavy, mostly closed door but still audible for the team and the blue haired man to hear.

"Yes, sir, I am." Shiro said, keeping his grin to a minimum, quite a feat for the ever amused man.

The police officers, forced to play along with the crook's feigned good citizenry, explained that, while Shiro shouldn't be alarmed, he should know there was an escaped criminal that had made his way to this side of the city. They described the man's appearance, giving a height and weight and told him that the criminal had been wounded.

"Hmm" Shiro gave a thoughtful hum and shifted his stance as he entertained the officers. He glanced at his secretary, still standing at his side, his posture as perfect and straight as an arrow. "Blue hair, ya say? Tha's odd, think I woulda remembered tha' if I had seen it. Ishida, ya got tha' description?"

"I have, Sir." Ishida said, also playing along with the Don's game.

"Go tell the rest a the employees, would ya? See if anyone 'as seen anythin" Shiro told him, moving aside so that his secretary could enter the mansion.

"Right away, Sir." Ishida bowed slightly before entering the mansion and disappearing down the hall, though he had no intention of saying anything to anyone.

"'fraid I can' help ya, gentlemen." Shiro turned back to the officers still taking up space on his front step. It was about time they left, in his opinion. "But if I see or hear anythin' I'll give ya a call"

"You do that." One of the officers muttered as the other thanked the albino for his time and they returned to their cruiser, bickering to themselves about his guilt and innocence.

Once they were off his grounds and the wrought iron gates were closed behind them, Shirosaki reentered his mansion, closing the door behind him. Ishida reappeared at his side to tell him that all video evidence of the man's existence from the security cameras had been destroyed before he disappeared again.

The bluenette walked up to him, flanked by the ever protective Handler and Hunter. The strange albino had not only seemed comfortable in letting him, effectively an intruder and a prisoner, roam the halls by his side, but had accepted his refusal to divulge his reasoning for being on the run, though he had no doubt the Don could easily enough dig up his history and it was obvious that he knew him to be a killer. Then, the albino had even covered him and sent the police that had been trying to catch him for a week the other way. Any man willing to keep him out of a cage was deserving of his loyalty. He extended a big hand and spoke. "Grimmjow. Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez."

Shiro frowned before a delighted grin quickly took it's place, his inverted gold on black eyes dancing and shining with a deranged glee. He grabbed the offered hand. Oh, he couldn't wait to see this man in action. "Ya start trainin' tamorrow, Grimmjow."

The young Don left the three men to their own devices, a pleased smirk stretching his startling features. Ichigo was instructed to continue showing the Don's new hit man around, including where Grimmjow would be staying. It was a very rare thing for any of his hand selected men to go against him as Shiro had an uncanny ability to tell who he needed to be wary of and his senses told him that Grimmjow was as trust worthy as a murderer could be, but that didn't stop him from making it obvious that the man would be under surveillance for a while. Much to Shiro's joy, the blue haired killer seemed to understand and wasn't bothered by it.

Stepping into his office, Shiro pulled his arms through his pristine, white jacket and hung it on a the door knob. He unbuttoned the annoying little buttons on the cuffs of his silk shirt and rolled the sleeves up passed his elbows before dropping down into his plush office chair with a sigh. Time to get down to the business side of things. He shuffled through the stack of paper work Ishida had placed in the center of his desk; reports from his teams, numbers from his various accounts, notes on who was coming and going and what was happening in his territory.

Ashen brows creased before the Don's lip curled slightly. He leaned forward a bit and pushed the call button on the intercom system, instantly buzzing him through to his secretary's office.

"Yes, Sir?" The man's haughty voice addressed through the speaker. The Don could just imagine him pushing his wireframe glasses up his straight nose.

"Ishida, any word from our li'l conquest yet?" The Don asked, not bothering to elaborate with a name. Ishida would know who he meant. He had given the other don until the end of the week and it had only been a day, which meant the man still had another three to respond before Shiro officially made the first move. But Don Shirosaki wasn't a very patient man and most were beginning to learn that the hard way. He hoped the small time mafia don would compose a reply quickly, for everyone's sake.

"There has been, Sir. A letter addressed to you was hand delivered not long before the authorities had shown up. I took the liberty of checking it for you, though I have not read any of the documents."

It irked Shiro when Ishida took it upon himself to go through his mail, but he understood the need. Being the Don of a quickly rising family put him at risk and one could never be to careful. "Very good, Ishida. Could ya brin' it ta me?"

"Right away, Sir"

Within minutes, the Don's secretary wrapped upon his office door before letting himself in. Ishida set the envelop with Shirosaki's name written in neat, curling penmanship on the large, stainless steel desk before the Don and bowed low before excusing himself to continue his own duties.

Shiro, customary smirk twisting his white lips, opened the envelope and pulled forth a single sheet of lined paper. Incredibly impressed that the cockroach of a man would take the time to hand write his reply, Shiro finished unfolding the letter.

The message was brief, not even taking up the entire page and the further Shiro read, the more his grip began crinkling the edge of the paper. It appeared the lower, soon to be swimming don wasn't going to outright give up his territory like Shiro had hoped.

Anger flashed across the Don's pallid features. Shiro slammed his fist down on the top of his desk, throughly crumpling the correspondence letter in the process. As the resounding dull echo died away, he ripped the paper in two and balled it up, chucking it in the small garbage can next to his desk with much more force than was necessary. The man pulled a pen from his desk, along with a clean sheet of paper and began scrawling out a response to the man's ignorance.

Oh, they would negotiate indeed.

* * *

><p><strong>Before anyone says anything; I know Grimmjow is pretty ooc in this, things will be heating up next chapter and he'll get back into character. As it is now, he's still feeling out the men and operation he's found himself being thrown into but he'll quickly learn he's allowed to let loose a little ^_~<strong>

**Anyway! Tell me what you think!**


	3. Chapter 3

**I really didn't expect to get this out by the weekend... Wrote almost the entire chapter today, in one sitting and I'm not sure I'm terribly happy with it *shrug*  
>Either way, you finally get to learn how Grimmjow and Ichigo became partners~<strong>

**Enjoy!  
><strong>

* * *

><p>Blood spattered across the walls, dripped down corded forearms and pooled on the cool cement floor below. The pain filled screams had long since died down and were replaced by wheezing, desperate breaths. Wiping some of the thick, crimson liquid away from his face, the new Hunter let a wild grin full of white teeth mar his blood smeared features. This was the type of thing he loved, he excelled in dealing pain and sharp, bloody death. Who would have thought he would have accidentally stumbled upon a chance like this? He had gone from common street criminal to feared and respected hit man virtually over night; a career he could certainly get used too.<p>

In the two weeks he had been in the Don's mansion, Grimmjow had quickly learned that his unnatural love of the hunt would be allowed and even encouraged. His need for blood wasn't looked at with fear and loathing here, where he was among people of similar tastes, if not quite as exaggerated and taken to the same level as his. No one would try to throw him in a cage or put him down like a rabid animal here. Even when he had nearly sent a sparring partner to the hospital and had to be pulled off the cocky bastard by multiple men the other day, the Don had simply smiled and congratulated him on his victory with a wide and delighted grin. It was survival of the fittest in the dog eat dog world of the mafia underworld and he was determined to come out on top, he would be King. Though he found he didn't mind working under Shirosaki.

Grimmjow snarled and ignored the commands of his supposed Handler as he continued tearing into the target he had been set upon. He didn't need that man to tell him when to stop or what to do. His prey wasn't dead quite yet. The Don had ordered death and that's what his job detailed; to deliver that death and for the first time in his life, he happily complied with orders given to him.

The man below him gurgled, dulled eyes rolling back until he could hardly tell their color any longer. The wet, panting gasps finally fell silent and the man's pathetic struggling ceased as his body fell still. Grimmjow slowly drew his knife out of the still warm body with a sick, slurping, ripping sound, his head tilted to the side slightly as he watched with satisfaction and a strange fascination.

A hand circled around the Hunter's upper arm and pulled. Sharp, intense blue eyes, clouded with an unnatural blood lust, snapped around and locked onto the smaller man's form. Purely out of reflex and instinct, the Hunter spun and pinned the interfering Handler to the ground, his blade smearing the target's blood across Luppi's throat in a mock of what the Hunter wished he could do to the man. White teeth were bared and an intimidating growl rose to fill the thick air before Grimmjow pulled away and let his Handler stand.

The Hunter left the warehouse, not bothering to help the smaller man to his feet or wait for him to catch up, throwing a long coat over his blood soaked clothing as he went. Luppi quickly caught up and ranted about how his Hunter needed to listen better and who knew what else. It seemed the smaller man never shut his mouth. He was always gloating about himself or dogging his Hunter for some reason or another.

Grimmjow tuned the annoying man out as he climbed into the car awaiting them, barely acknowledging the driver holding his door with a nod of his head. He wondered if it was possible to request a new partner. Luppi was lucky he hadn't shut him up yet.

Hunter and Handler teams had quickly become the talk among the city's underworld in the young Don's short but prosperous and promising reign. Don Shirosaki's hit men were feared and respected and had quickly gained a brutal and beautifully efficient reputation. None of the Don's teams had yet to deliver a negative report and they had only had a handful of minor wounds. They were perfect, or very nearly so.

Grimmjow was working on building a reputation of his own, both among enemies and allies alike. Rumors of a blue haired demon working under the young Don were circulating about already and the man had only been going on missions for a couple of weeks now. It was said the hit man had to be more animal than man; he held a predatory grace that was nearly inhuman, he had sharp fangs and claws and eyes of dancing blue fire. He had shown up from seemingly nowhere and killed as if it were mere child's play. And all of the stories circled back to the pale devil that was Shirosaki; the young albino that was rumored to have killed his father and would do anything it took to get what he wanted.

Grimmjow smirked, lost in the thought as he used part of his shirt to clean the blood away from his dagger and the city rolled by around him. Shirosaki had been quite amused while telling him of the rumors circling around the business, that infectious, too wide smirk plastered across pale features the whole while he spoke in that odd, lilting voice.

The Hunter licked his fingers, unmindful of the bitter blood still staining them, and used them to work out a smudge on the blade of his dagger. He ignored the disgusted look the Handler sitting across from him was sending his way as he continued cleaning. This knife, old and beginning to show it's wear, had seen the death of many people, most of them civilians from before he had been caught by the Don and a part of him hopped it would see the death of at least one more man if none others.

Luppi watched his Hunter clean the wicked dagger in his big hands. It didn't look like much; just a simple hunting knife, the blade's edge nicked and scratched from use, but he had seen what it was capable of in the hands of the gorgeous man in front of him. It was a shame the bluenette seemed like such a psycho and was so far below the Handler himself. Luppi curled his lip and arched his perfect brows at the man as he licked the blood from his fingers before running them over the blade, taking great care in cleaning his favored weapon.

Cold, blue eyes shone in the street lamps, a deranged and dangerous gleam to them as Luppi turned to watch the city go by as they sped back to the Don's mansion.

••••••

It was just after nightfall, the sun still clinging to the horizon to tint the skyline behind the skyscrapers in fiery oranges and reds. The city slept around the beautiful mansion that sat at it's edge, impervious to the activities that were beginning to stir and flurry within it's walls. The hallways were still silent save for the sound of foot steps on smooth tile. The soft patter of expensive dress shoes echoed through the empty corridor as the Don turned a corner and traversed the wing that would take him to the training facilities. His fist clenched around another sheet of paper; a letter written in beautiful penmanship stating all the things he didn't want to hear from a man that had no right denying him anything. It was the third such correspondence letter between Shirosaki and the lower don he was dealing with and he was fed up. A date had been set, along with a time and place, for a meeting between the two to discuss business propositions. The man wanted to bargain. Shiro didn't do bargaining but he would humor the man all the same. It was just good business. The cockroach would learn his mistake soon enough. Shirosaki would just take what he wanted since asking hadn't worked.

Shiro threw the doors to the main training room open, striding through and ignoring the few men that bowed to him as he stormed passed. The look of seething anger across his usually amused features kept them silent and wary of what was to come. He stalked toward the ring used for sparing that dominated the center of the room where two of the men he was looking for danced around one another, looking for openings as they panted slightly, sweat soaking their clothes. "Ichi."

"Yes, Sir?" The Handler asked, not looking at the Don as he side stepped and came back in at his partner. Chado grunted quietly around the fist but accepted the hit and forced Ichigo into close combat, grappling with the orange haired Handler.

Half a smirk appeared on the Don's face as he watched his team fight against one another, an exercise that helped the two hit men work together better in the field and taught them how the other worked and how to compliment that. "Got a job fer ya guys, think second team's ready ta go?"

The question and news had the team of hit men pausing in their practice fight as they looked up to the Don. His annoyance was clearly written in his strange, commanding gaze, but it wasn't aimed at the men he was watching. It was obvious the Don meant business. Orange brows drew together as Ichigo mulled the question over.

It had been a mere two weeks since the blue haired man was made a Hunter and given to a Handler and already he had proven his worth. It was quickly learned that Grimmjow excelled at close combat. The man reveled in spilling blood, in feeling it wash over his hands as he tore his target open and watched pain and fear shine in quickly dulling eyes. The very fist mission he had been sent on showed that he certainly didn't have a weak stomach and had no problem doing what most thought was unthinkable. When the Don had told Luppi that they were to extract information but make sure the target lived so that he could be an example, Grimmjow had easily and happily taken to the role of deranged torturer; beating the man to a pulp when he refused to talk and eventually cutting off digits before they had the information they wanted. And the man had survived as requested by the Don. At least for an excruciatingly long day or two anyway. No, Ichigo had no doubt that Grimmjow would be ready for another mission, even though he had only returned to the mansion a few hours ago. The ever blood thirsty Hunter would gladly go out into the field again this night.

Ichigo had only noticed one problem in the short time the bluenette was under Shirosaki's employ; he didn't seem to like taking orders from anyone other than the Don himself. He always got the job done and done well, but he would occasionally disregard or only reluctantly follow the orders given by his Handler. And he sure as hell didn't listen to any of the other Handlers in the facility. Of course, Luppi didn't help matters in those regards. While not on missions, the effeminate man liked to push his Hunter's buttons, something that was found to be a very bad idea early on. The bluenette had no problem throwing himself against members of his own family if he felt it necessary or lost the tentative control he held over himself. When he let himself go, he was the most vicious man Ichigo had ever seen. Beautiful in his brutality and madness, really.

The Handler ran his hand threw his messy tail of sweaty orange hair and shrugged his shoulders. "Yeah, they've been doing well enough." Ichigo hopped off the raised fighting platform and leaned against the edge as he looked at the albino. "Are you sending both teams out?"

The Don nodded, his customary grin finally stretching his pale lips once again. "Wan' my top two teams accompanyin' me while I personally deal wit an issue."

A smile split Ichigo's features as Chado dropped down to stand next to him, the practice forgotten. "When's this going down, Sir?" The orangette asked his boss, following after the pale man as he turned and started toward the door.

"Soon. Go fin' the other team an' meet in my office fer a briefin' They should be back in their suite by now." The Don instructed, looking over his shoulder at his man.

"Of course, Sir" Ichigo couldn't keep the smile off his face even had he tried. It was good to see that the new Don was willing to step things up and take the family to the next level. Shirosaki seemed exactly the kind of man to do it.

Ichigo detoured away from the Don once they hit the main corridor, heading toward the in mansion Hunter/Handler suites. Shirosaki's top teams were kept on the grounds for security and fast response reasons. One never knew when the head of the family would need his hit men for one reason or another.

He made his way down the hall to the other team's suite, passing by his own, and knocked on the door. The Don had said they should be back from their mission by now, which meant they had probably already reported back in with him and would be with in the private rooms by now. A gruff voice called threw the door to him.

"Door's unlocked!" The bluenette's deep voice sent a quick shiver down Ichigo's spine. He pushed the door open and peeked inside before stepping in and letting it close quietly behind him. The lights were on, but there was no sign of the Hunter or his Handler and Ichigo let a frown tilt his features.

The sounds of someone moving around drew the top Handler toward the back of the suite. He took a step in that direction just as the door to the washroom was kicked open. Grimmjow paused in the door way, a blood stained towel in hand and his blue hair damp. The towel was held casually at the man's waist level and revealed enough for Ichigo to realize the man was naked and didn't seem to care.

The muscle of the man's torso flexed and twisted as he leaned a perfectly cut hip against the frame of the door and tilted his head slightly. Golden skin shined with a fine layer of moisture from the shower, a few droplets running between the grooves and planes of his abdomen and chest. When a devilish smirk pulled at the bluenette's full lips Ichigo jerked his gaze away and cleared his throat.

"So, uh. Are you alright?" He asked, motioning toward the red stained towel in the man's hands.

Grimmjow scoffed at the thought before his deep laughter filled the room. "Of course. You really think the pathetic man Shirosaki sent me after could hurt me?"

"Just making sure" Ichigo mumbled, ignoring the sharp gaze that seemed to bore through his very being. "Where's your Handler, anyway? The Don has another mission."

The blue haired Hunter shrugged, uncaring where the little shit was. Luppi yanked his chain the wrong way far too often in their short partnership and he was happy to be rid of the man whenever the chance occurred. Now, the orange haired man standing in his doorway was another matter. He would let that man be his Handler any day. A smirk flashed across angular features as Grimmjow disappeared into his private room to dress and find a shirt that wasn't torn up to go meet with the Don.

It only took the Don's right hand man ten minutes or so to have the other team rounded up and in his office. Shiro smirked as he crossed one leg over the other under his desk and looked at his teams. All four were loyal and talented men, skilled in the art of killing. He decided they would do quite nicely, both on this mission and in the future.

"I have a meetin' with another don that requires me ta personally attend. The matters ta be discussed aren't all tha' important. Jus' know that I will be takin' what I want he he'll be unhappy or dead about it." The Don shrugged and opened a drawer in his desk, pulling his gun from the back of his slacks and resting it in the foam padding that the drawer held. "Coz I'll need ta be unarmed, ya four will be comin' wit me"

The four men in his office would be his weapons, he didn't need a gun when he had the most effective killing machines around. The Don continued going over what was supposed to happen. He warned his teams that the other don was supposed to be unarmed and would have men with him as well. They were supposed to be discussing the terms and conditions of the man's family merging with Shiro's own, ultimately resulting in Shiro taking control of the other don's territory and spreading his circle of influence. All men within the building were to be visible and the Don would meet with the lower ranking one in the very center of the room; a fairly classic set up that was intended to keep things even and as friendly as was possible between men that made all things illegal and taboo their business. However, from what had already been said and hinted at from their letters, Shiro expected the man wouldn't be very cooperative.

Shirosaki stood from his desk chair and pulled his white tailored jacket over his deep violet button up. Grin firmly in place, he stuck his hands in the pockets of his white slacks and led the way out the door. Other members of his staff watched curiously as the Don and his favored men left the building. Shirosaki didn't bother explaining what was going on to anyone, he would inform the rest of the family of the changes to their territory when he got back.

The Don's personal vehicle was waiting for them out front. The door was opened for him, the black clad driver bowing low as if Shiro were royalty and avoiding eye contact. The albino slid into the vehicle and took his seat, crossing his legs out in front of him and motioning for his hit men to join him in the same vehicle.

It was unheard of to allow common killers so near a don in such circumstances. Usually, the hit men would have a car of their own that would follow behind the Don's, even under Shiro's father's rule. But Shiro himself couldn't care less about what was considered proper etiquette. The men slid into the large and expensive vehicle behind him, Ichigo to his right and Chado to his left, a show of their importance and the Don's trust in them, while Grimmjow and Luppi sat across from him.

The ride was relatively quick and made in silence. The Don having already told them what to expect, nothing more needed to be said to prepare them. They were professionals, each and everyone of them, and were prepared for anything.

When the shinny white vehicle, the windows tinted very nearly black and bulletproof, slowed to a stop the two Hunters were the first to exit, one on either side of the car, followed by their respective Handlers.

As Shiro prepared to exit on the side nearest the building they were to be meeting in, a deep, commanding voice halted his progress.

"Wait." Grimmjow, his glacial blue eyes narrowed, titled his head toward the sky slightly, almost as if testing the air. His body tense, he let his sharp eyes wander the area. "Something's off, boss." He could feel it in the air, something wasn't adding up and he had a feeling that Shirosaki was putting himself in more danger than he thought he was by being here. The Hunter had always held high faith in his instincts, even before he had become a Hunter and he wasn't about to second guess them now.

Shiro's smirk fell slightly as a white brow arched questioningly. He glanced up to the bluenette's Handler, the man that was supposed to know the predatory killer the best.

Luppi rolled his eyes and looked around. "I don't see anything. He's still new to this sort of thing, he's probably just overly cautious." The effeminate man told the Don as he moved away from the car and began rounding the back end toward the building they were to enter.

Liquid gold eyes swirled with intrigue and a little more caution than normal but the Don climbed from the vehicle, ignoring the low rumble emitting from the bluenette's throat. Luppi made a good point after all; Grimmjow was still new to working this way and his seemingly fierce loyalty toward the Don could very well be making him paranoid.

Ichigo and his Hunter leading the way and the second team flanking the Don, the five of them entered the building and took in their surroundings. Boxes and storage bins lined the walls, various piles strewn about the interior and around the support collumns. The other don, dressed in his finest, was already awaiting them. He stood in the center of the room, his face a controlled mask. His hands were casually crossed in front of him and kept in plain sight, a position that was meant to express his intent to keep things civil. Four men, the agreed number of enforcers, stood behind him, several meters back, their hands at their sides as they warily watched the intimidating men striding into the building.

Don Shiro let his natural smirk stretch his pale lips as he confidentially strode toward the center of the room. Stopping a few feet away from the opposing don, Shiro nodded in greeting before he let his watery, lilting voice permeate the tense air, careful to keep his hands visible as well.

"Shall we get ta business, then?" He asked, purposefully not using the man's name or a title. He was the more powerful of the two men and he would make sure the other don didn't forget that.

"Of course, sir" The other don said, his tone friendly enough as he accorded Shiro with the respect his position dictated. However, he had no intentions of letting this man walk away with his territory or his operation and a glint that spelled murder shone in his beady eyes.

The man's dark eyes flitted over Shiro's shoulder as a quiet yet deep growl vibrated in the room, seemingly riding the currents of the stale air to fill the entire space. Shiro easily enough guessed who was responsible for the noise. He watched unease and something else flash through the lower don's eyes at the sound and decided it would be alright not to silence the blue haired killer. The man made an excellent intimidation factor.

The heavy air swirled with barely checked hostility as the Don locked eyes with the man he was meeting with once again. Grimmjow's warning came back to him and he carefully shifted his stance, never breaking eye contact. Maybe the Hunter had been correct in his feeling, something didn't seem quite right. Everything was too tense to be a simple business meeting, even between two accomplished murderers.

"You know, Shirosaki, if I may be honest" The man started. Shiro didn't like the edge that his voice held, it was sharp and condescending with no small amount of veiled meaning. "I am quite impressed with what you've accomplished in so short a time. Perhaps your late father raised you better than we all thought?"

Liquid gold eyes narrowed in suspicion and growing anger as pale lips curled in a silent sneer. The air in the room was stifling, swirling with an undercurrent of hidden motives and threat.

"It's a shame you wont be continuing..."

The man's sentence was cut short by a snarling that could have rivaled a leopard's. Time seemed to slow and everyone in the room froze for an instant, all eyes darting to the blue haired hit man already in action. The lower ranking don reached behind him to pull a gun just as Shiro's newest Hunter slammed into him, no commands given verbally or silently. A gleaming blade found his lung before he was given the chance to squeeze the trigger, his gun trained on the pale Don.

"Chado!" Ichigo yelled as he raced forward. His Hunter responded immediately, charging in and attacking the man nearest him, aiding the Hunter already sinking his dagger into the next target, a man that entered from a hidden room off to the side, very near where the albino was standing.

Ichigo darted in front of Don Shirosaki, one hand fisted in the Don's shirt to push him into a crouch while he leveled his own gun at another enemy. Luppi was by his side in an instant, the two Handlers protecting their boss.

A door off to the side opened, releasing several more of the opposing don's men. Gun fire sprayed the building in lead, the sparks from the discharges creating sickly twisting shadows upon the walls and floors. Men screamed, many of the terrified shouts cut short. A pained yelp rang out, followed by an enraged snarl. Blood spilt and slicked the floors. Within seconds, the noise died down as the last of the opposing don's men succumbed to the viscous hit men that they had been no match for.

Shirosaki patted Ichigo's shoulder lightly, a silent show of his gratitude, as he straightened himself. The Don had chosen wisely when he made Ichigo his right hand man, he could always count on him to be ready for anything. The Handler turned to his boss, brown eyes instantly scanning the albino and looking for signs of injury. Much to his relief, the man seemed unharmed.

Chado returned to his partner's side, further surrounding the Don even though the threat had been eliminated. It was no longer a conscious act, but one born of countless hours of training and a deep set, nearly unexplainable loyalty to the young albino. Anyone of the Don's closest men would willingly trade their lives for the man and half of them wouldn't be able to say why if they were asked.

"Grimmjow, what are you doing?" Luppi's high pitched voice questioned, loud in the suddenly still and silent room. The air smelled of gun powder and blood, of fear and death. The blue haired man, bright eyes still tinged with battle lust and madness, yanked his blade from a body and began stalking around the various boxes and objects that littered the room, his fluid movements as silent as a hunting cat. "Grimmjow, get over here. We're done." Luppi tried again, his tone superior and showing an edge of childish anger.

The bluenette bared his teeth but didn't bother looking at him as he growled out a response. "There's one missing." He wasn't a simple animal that killed blindly when told. He always kept a mental count of his targets, it was how he managed to get away with his little hobby for so long in the city's streets. No one could squeal on him if there were no survivors.

At the sound of his voice, the man he had been searching for sprang from around a support column, swinging his gun to level at the bluenette. The gun was fired off at the same time Grimmjow tackled the man. He practically roared his fury, his voice deep and savage. He used one hand to yank the gun from the man's hand while his other thrust the old hunting dagger into the man's gut. As Grimmjow dropped the gun, he drug his knife toward the side, slicing through flesh and cutting through muscle until he felt the blade's edge grind against the bone and cartilage of the man's ribs.

The smell of the target's fresh blood filled the Hunter's senses, drowning out the burning pain of the bullet that had sliced through the flesh along his own ribcage. Agonized screams echoed from the concrete walls as the man weakly struggled back, is hands clenched around the Hunter's wrist, tears of pain and fear streaming down his face unnoticed by he or his killer. The bluenette didn't hear the shouted commands being given him as he grinned down at the man he was carving up, his white teeth flashing in the low lighting. Had he been capable of such things, Grimmjow was positive he would be purring at the moment.

A second man ran into his view, attempting to pull him away from the man he was killing. Anger and a very slight trepidation flashed in his mine. He was positive he hadn't miss counted the number of enemies. Instinct took over at the first touch of smallish hands. Grimmjow yanked his knife free of the nearly dead man below him, snapping the blade in half when it caught on the man's ribs, and plunged what was left of it into the man at his side. The second man gasped as cold steel slid into his chest, hands clenching in the Hunter's blood soaked shift.

Grimmjow didn't bother to look at the face in front of his own as he gave in to the animalistic side of himself and pushed his humanity aside for the time being. The man in front of him was simply prey. Growling, Grimmjow bore down, knocking the man from his feet with ease. He didn't bother yanking his broken dagger from the man's body. Instead, he closed a hand into a big fist and drove it into his target's face. Gripping the front of the smaller man's shirt to hold the struggling and gurgling man still, Grimmjow sent another devastating hit to the man. A deranged grin full of white teeth on his face, the bluenette grasped the smaller male's bottom jaw and gave a sharp, quick yank. The sound of popping and grinding echoed in the too quiet room, widening the snarling smile on the Hunter's face.

"Grimmjow, that's enough." The voice was smooth, calm, softly commanding and it stirred something in the furious Hunter's battle raging mind. When a third man touched him, the bluenette spun, teeth bared and snarling, to see orange hair and brown eyes.

The Handler prepared to defend himself if the enraged Hunter attacked him as well, his grip tight on the handle of his gun. Instead, the man froze and Ichigo watched as glacial cyan began to clear, the madness beginning to drain away and recognition starting dawn in their endless depths.

Blue eyes still locked with his own, the Hunter pried his fingers open and let Luppi's body fall to the floor to land in a pool of his own blood with a dull thud. The sneer fell from Grimmjow's face as his eyes, still locked with the top Handler's, slowly widened as if he just realized what he had done.

Muscled body still frozen in place, blue snapped to the side to lock with fiery gold as the Don let his gaze travel the carnage in the warehouse before looking back to the blue haired man. He liked what he had seen; the madness and the ease with which the blue haired man killed was exactly what he had been looking for when he created the idea of Hunters.

A smirk slowly stretched to consume the Don's pale features. Grimmjow was the piece that had been missing in his hit men teams. He was the brutal, instinctual killer that would further spread the Don's reputation and name around the city and beyond. And Ichigo, already his number one Handler, seemed to be the man to calm and control the raging storm that was the bluenette's unbridled fury. Separate, these two men were already fearsome and forces to be reckoned with, but combined...they would be unstoppable.

"Sorry, Chado. Ganna have ta find ya a new Handler."

* * *

><p><strong>Gotta love Shiro~ Oh, you killed one of my best men? Just shows that you're a badass! Promotion time!<strong>

**anyway, Let me know what you thought of the chapter! please?**

* * *

><p><strong><strong><em>ALSO, as suggested, I shall be doing a Q&amp;A!<em>  
>So ask away, everyone! It can be any random question you can think of; about this story, about one of my others, things pertaining to my writing, things not pertaining to my writing, whatever you would like know!<br>I will post the questions with the answers in a seprate file later on! ****


	4. Chapter 4

**Yay~ Finally an update!**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

><p>Shiro walked down the halls of his large mansion, his white shoes quietly tapping on the polished black and white tile. The few other people wandering the corridors, mostly mansion staff and a few of his underlings, bowed slightly and moved out of his path as he passed by. A few glanced curiously at the rather large package slung under one of the Don's arms, wrapped in black and white striped paper, complete with a rich purple bow and everything. The Don's seemingly excellent mood was reflected in the devilish smirk that creased his unnaturally pale features and the shine in his strange, gold on black eyes. A cigarette was perched at the corner of his ashen lips but he drew in very little of the acrid smoke as he listened to the man walking at his side.<p>

"I don't think I understand. You're really planning to reassign me a new partner?" The Don's prized Handler asked, his voice quiet and polite but the incredulity of the accusation rode on the undercurrents of his tone. As far as he had known, he and his Hunter, Chado, had been doing quite well together. It seemed a bit hasty to suddenly change his team around just because the new guy had killed his first partner. And that was another matter all together...

"A' course I'm serious, Ichi. Yer the best Handler I got and I ain't 'bout ta pass up the man's raw talent. Grimmjow's new ta the business, but he's got experience in killin' an that's what I want 'im ta do. Luppi didn' know how ta handle him. And tha's what I wan' you ta do." Shiro said as if it made perfect sense, and really, it did. It was simple logic. The original Handler appointed to the blue haired killer hadn't been good enough, so he would appoint a better one. Handler's didn't get any better than Ichigo.

He pulled his free hand from the pocket of his perfectly fitted slacks to pluck the cigarette from his lips. In his other hand, he shifted the heavy package he held under his arm, careful not to jostle it around too much or mess up the beautiful wrapping job. Despite the Handler's barely concealed protests, Shiro smirked and looked over at the orange haired man. "Ya scared a 'im? I really thought ya were better'en Luppi"

Predictably, Ichigo's expressive brown eyes flashed with a dangerous gleam before narrowing on the Don. He scoffed at the very notion of the dead Handler being better than he was. He may not have been a vain man, but Ichigo knew when he excelled in something and he readily agreed that he was the best there was at what he did. He had worked hard to prove himself and claim the title of the Don's number one Handler.

"I'm hardly afraid of him, Sir...but..." Ichigo said, ignoring the Don's taunt about Luppi. He recognized it for the bait it was and didn't bother dignifying the jab with a comment.

"Good, then ya shouldn' have any problems." Shiro cut him off before he could further argue. He wasn't about to back down in this and he knew, in the end, Ichigo would understand. Grimmjow was what he needed in a Hunter and after what he had witnessed, Ichigo was the only man he truly believed would be able to handle the wild man. "I know ya like workin' wit Chado, but he's docile 'nough to work wit a different Handler, Grimmjow is not."

Ichigo was quiet a moment while the two continued to walk. He sighed and nodded his understanding, letting the subject drop. The Don was right, like he usually was. Grimmjow's brutality was too perfect to pass up and they had already seen what happened when the man was paired with someone not of the same caliber. Perhaps it would prove enjoyable to work with someone so untamed and unpredictable for a change. "Very well, Sir."

Shiro let his smirk turn into a grin as they neared his destination. He could already hear the muffled growling coming from in the infirmary and realized leaving the doctor to patch up this particular Hunter without supervision was probably not the brightest idea he had ever had.

"Hold this" The albino thrust the package he held into Ichigo's hands, not bothering to wait for a response.

The Handler took the wrapped package, surprise flitting across his features when the object's full weight settled in his arms. It wasn't terribly heavy, but much heavier than he had been expecting, several pounds at least. Ichigo followed the Don into the in-mansion hospital room, very aware of the animalistic growling that rumbled from within. Had he not known better, he would have thought Shiro had bought a dog. Or maybe a really large cat, like a panther or something. He half expected to see the blue haired Hunter, blood dripping from his strong hands, hunched over the pink haired doctor's mangled body. Luckily, that wasn't the case, though it looked as though that's what they would have walked into had they arrived much later.

The doctor stood a few feet away from the Hunter, needle and medical thread in his gloved hands, and glared at the bluenette. His fiery yellow eyes flashed behind silver framed glasses, intelligence and cunning shimmering behind reflective glass. "I do believe I liked you much more when you were unconscious." Szayel spat out petulantly, his tone annoyed and haughty.

Grimmjow tensed, the sneer on his features turning into a baring of his seemingly too sharp teeth as his growl took on a snarling sound. The new Hunter's corded muscles tightened and he looked ready to launch.

"How're things goin'?" The Don asked, raising his lilting voice to draw the two men's attention toward him and away from each other.

"Good evening, Sir" Szayel said, turning toward the Don and completely disregarding the uncooperative bluenette, something that had never been a wise idea, something Shiro's enemies would quickly learn.

"He's not patched up yet?" The Don asked as he looked over the shirtless Hunter. The blood, both his own and from the men he had killed, had been cleaned away but the few wounds he had received had yet to be stitched up. None of them were life threatening or very serious at all, mostly just a few cuts, but hot lead had scored a gash through the muscle of his upper arm that would need cleaned and stitched.

"No, Sir. I've been trying, but he isn't very approachable." Szayel said, waving a dainty hand toward the bluenette.

The Don gave Ichigo a pointed look, to which the Handler set the box in his arms down on a metal tray used to hold medical equipment and neared the blue haired man. "It seems we are to be partners now, which means you let Mr. Granz do his job so we can get to work." He told the man, watching for any signs that his new partner would disagree while he avoided watching the beautiful crimson that slowly trailed from the gash in the man's flawless golden flesh.

Grimmjow's growl slowly faded away and he crossed his muscled arms over his chest as he studied the daring orange haired man. It wasn't everyday someone dared to talk to him like that, or live to do it again. What the Handler had said was meant to be a command. He knew it was supposed to be. But his voice hadn't held that superior tone Luppi had used, nor the better-than-thou tone the doc liked to use. It was the same calm, smooth and confident tone he had used before. And just like in the warehouse, it gave Grimmjow pause. It was a logical request; get fixed up so he could go kill again. He nodded his head once before speaking in a rumbling growl of quick, snapping words. "Get over here and hurry the hell up."

Szayel sniffed lightly but wasn't about to reprimand the dangerous man for how he was speaking to him. He did his job quickly and efficiently and was placing sterile, white bandages over the stitches in no time.

Both Grimmjow and Ichigo watched him closely the whole of the twenty minutes it took him. It was rather unnerving to have two of the most deadly men in all of the family breathing down his neck, not to mention the Don himself standing in the door way behind him. Even as undeniably gorgeous as the bluenette was, Szayel really hoped patching the new Hunter up wouldn't be a constant thing.

"Thank ya, Szazy. Ya can go now, but keep yer phone on an' a line open" The Don let a grin full of mischievous intent that could have meant anything consume snowy features and pulled a wad of folded bills from an inside pocket of his pressed, white suit jacket.

The make-shift doctor bowed slightly while he accepted his payment. "Of course, Sir" Szayel said, turning toward the door and leaving the room. A private car would be awaiting him outside with a driver appointed and owned by the Don himself since Szayel had opted to live off mansion grounds, where he would be able to play around in his own laboratory.

Grin still firmly in place and spread wide across the albino's boyish features, Shiro slowly opened up his jacket and dipped his hand into the inside pocket as he addressed what would quickly become his best and most feared team, the most infamous men in all the city.

"Put on yer finest, boys, we're goin' out" He pulled a slim, elongated navy blue box from his pocket, a silver ribbon tied around it to hold it closed, and tossed it to the Hunter standing up from the gurney.

Grimmjow caught the box easily, never breaking eye contact with the Don. He shifted the box, testing the weight before a slight smile began to creep it's way across his handsome face. By the time he opened the box, his slightly crazed grin was in full force, all white teeth and malicious glee.

Within a half hour, Ichigo was dressed in a slick, black suit. His white button up was pressed and a teal bow tie rested at his throat. Shoulder length, orange locks were tied into a low tail and he rested the heavy, black and white wrapped package on the round kitchen table in his suite. Well, their suite now.

"Wander what's in the box" He said aloud as he waited for the bluenette to finish readying himself, staring at the package the Don had shoved into his hands while they were picking up the new Hunter from Szayel. All he had been told was that they were bringing it with them to the meeting Shiro was to be attending, some business meeting between himself and a few other men from a different family.

"Smelled like something dead" Came Grimmjow's deep voice from the other room, muffled slightly by the thick door.

Ichigo frowned, giving the box an incredulous look before peering back toward the door way to the room the Hunter now occupied. He bent to tentatively sniff at the pretty wrapping paper, feeling like a fool but too curious not to try all the same. The smell of fresh wrapping paper and a flowery perfume assaulted his senses, but a familiar, thick and cloying scent barely hid behind the more pleasant smells. He rose a brow turning his head to look back toward his partner's new room and at the partially closed door, standing and walking away from the table and whatever the package contained, now knowing just what type of meeting Shiro was bringing them to. It was no wonder the Don had chosen to bring his best team along for back up.

"What's taking you so long?" The Handler questioned loudly through the mostly closed door of the Hunter's room as he walked toward the portal, dismissing the package once again. To himself, he mumbled under his breath "You take longer than a girl."

"I do not." The words were accompanied by a shifting of cloth and a quite, annoyed growl.

Ichigo paused, surprise flashing quickly over his features at the Hunter's response. The man must have had incredible hearing. "Then why aren't you dressed? It's not a difficult thing."

The door flew open, bouncing from the door stop along the wall before the knob could plow a hole in the smooth and painted drywall. The muscled bluenette stood in the door way, his teeth bared and clad in nothing but a pair of dark silk boxers with a pattern of slightly darker figures that barely stood out in the lighting.

Ichigo, face a light shade of pink, couldn't be bothered to pull his gaze from the man's waist line. "Are those...paw prints?" He asked, staring at the pattern on the man's underwear before snapping his gaze back to the man's face as the bluenette growled out an answer.

"No." Grimmjow grunted, turning back into his new room and not bothering to close the door. He pulled a black suit jacket from the large, walk in closet and sneered at it before tossing it over his shoulder to land in a heap at the top of a growing pile of various, fitted dress cloths. "I'm not wearing one of those damn suits."

Ichigo smirked as the man turned his back and began digging through his wardrobe again. With the shift in lighting, he was able to clearly see the subtle pattern of the man's boxers, as well as how great he looked in them. The Handler snorted a barely stifled giggle that luckily went unnoticed by the Hunter. Kitty prints.

"You have to. Don Shirosaki demands that we look the part" The top Handler said, edging closer to the bluenette's private room. He stared at the now nearly empty closet with wide eyes.

"No." The Hunter ground out, his voice like smooth stones churned by crashing waves. "They restrict movement. If we're there to guard him, then a suit would only be a hinderance."

Ichigo had to admit to himself, he was mildly impressed by the Hunter's use of logic and semi-intelligent word choice. He had pegged the man for a pretty face and brute strength, but it seemed that maybe a few lights were indeed still burning upstairs.

The orange haired man brushed passed his new partner and entered the closet while he contemplated what the man had said. He was right. A nice, fitted suit didn't affect the way Ichigo fought and killed because he was used to being at a distance with his trusty and effective handgun, an M1911-A1. But the bluenette was up close and personal with his style; an abundance of swift and precise movement, speed and agility.

He flipped through a few more suits, the Don always made sure his teams and men looked as good as he did, pushing them out of his way and sliding them down the bar they hung on. Grimmjow still needed to look presentable, but needed something that allowed a wide range of movement.

A few minutes later, both men strode from their shared suite, looking impressive and formidable. The Hunter was dressed in a pair of dark blue, nearly black jeans, acid washed and faded slightly along the thighs and a black, V-neck long sleeved shirt that clung to his muscled torso and arms. The polished, shinning silver handle of a brand new, beautifully carved butterfly dagger peeked out from the back pocket of the man's jeans as he confidently followed after his new Handler, a pleased smile on his full lips.

The few people they passed glanced their direction, most giving plenty of distance between themselves and the dangerous team. It hadn't taken long for word of Luppi's murder to spread and while the smaller male wasn't all that well liked amongst the mansion staff and other hit men, it still gave them pause when confronted with the blue haired man that had killed him. The ruthless Hunter didn't even bother denying it.

A few, quiet whispers of the man's growing reputation that had the Hunter's sinful grin widening followed the pair out the large, double doors. The Don's personal vehicle awaited them, parked in front of the mansion's circle drive. As they approached, the door was opened, the driver bowing low while he quietly waited for them to enter the car, keeping his eyes trained on the toes of his shoes.

Ichigo handed the wrapped package to the pale man already seated within before sliding into the vehicle and taking his place across from the Don. Shiro settled the object on the leather seat next to him as the new Hunter took a seat next to his Handler. If the smirk that tugged at the corners of the bluenette's lips was anything to go by, the man seemed pleased enough by the switch in partners and Shiro new Ichigo would warm up to the man quickly enough. The Don was pleased to see how comfortable the two already seemed around each other, even if they had yet to notice it. They would get along just fine.

The driver quietly pushed the door closed after the three occupants had made themselves comfortable and returned to his position behind the wheel. The vehicle rumbled to life and eased down the drive, passing through the towering wrought iron gates that closed the mansion's grounds off from the rest of the city, keeping the Don safe from the citizens and the citizens safe from the Don.

Street lamps flickered to life as the sun dipped low in an over cast sky and bathed a crooked district in silent shadow. The streets were uncrowded, only a bare minimum of traffic as the last of the working class citizens made their way home for the evening. The night crew was just beginning to show it's self. A group of kids from one of the local gangs pointed to the luxurious, spotless white vehicle that traversed the streets. They scurried away, ducking down an alleyway and out of sight of the young Don known not to take kindly to the gangs entering his growing territory to do their unwanted dealing and pedaling.

Inside the car, Shirosaki sneered out the window, watching the small time gang as they hid like cowards, hiding in the shadows like insects. Oh how he wished he could squish them under his shoe. They had no code, no sense of honor, crooked or otherwise. "Damn rats." The albino muttered, for that's what they were to him; pests that invaded and fed on what was his.

"Perhaps you need a bigger cat" Grimmjow said as the driver pulled the vehicle into the parking lot of the most expensive restaurant in the entire city, just a few streets down from where the unwanted rodents had scurried and cowered like the vermin they were.

Shiro lifted a single, ashen brow at the bluenette across from him, ignoring that his driver had opened the door for he and his team to exit. The obedient, silent man would stand bowed beside the opened door for as long the Don sat in the car or until he was told otherwise. "Did ya have somethin' in mind?"

The Hunter let his wide, blood thirsty grin answer for him as he stared back at the Don, a feverish gleam to his blue eyes.

Shiro's watery laughter filled the quite space, a devilish grin consuming his pale features. "Make it quick an' meet us inside when yer done. We're a little early anyway."

A delighted rumbling growl left the Hunter's throat as he slipped from the vehicle through the opened door and disappeared out into the night as silent as the predator he was.

"Oh, I like 'im, Ichi" Shiro said as he watched the man seemingly be swallowed by the dark city. Even with bright blue hair he blended and became one with his surroundings as if he were wearing seamless camouflage; a demon of a man that fit right in with a city full of sin. It was no wonder the pathetic police force hadn't been able to catch him. The Don almost felt bad about sending the man after the small time group of kids. Almost.

Ichigo nodded his agreement, hardly catching the double meaning in the Don's lilting, teasing words or the smirk trained in his direction as he slowly climbed from the car, his vision still trained in the direction his Hunter had disappeared. He was already focused and listening for signs that his partner had run into problems, shifted from his casual, everyday persona to business mode. Not even ten minutes later, Ichigo leaning back against the vehicle, Don Shiro still casually sitting inside, a stifled cry was cut short with a tell tale abruptness, made by a voice much too high pitched to the Hunter's gravely tone.

Grimmjow couldn't wipe the grin off his face, his white teeth illuminated in the dark as he slipped into the mouth of the alleyway he had watched the small gang disappear into. The single, dingy light bulb from a street lamp back lit the Hunter, casting his shadow to proceed him into the narrow space. As Grimmjow slowly, confidently strode forward, hands in his pockets, the subtle scuff of rubber soled shoes on pavement announced that he had gained the rats' attention.

A man stepped from the shadows to greet him, a wooden Louisville Slugger swaying menacingly at his side from one hand. Several more men followed their leader, bold with the thought of strength in superior numbers. They failed to notice the grin that had yet to leave the bluenette's face, the grin that would spell their disaster.

"Hey now, what do we have here?" The first man asked rhetorically in a mock tone of friendly curiosity, looking the expensively dressed man up and down. He twirled the bat in his hand for emphasis, lifting it to rest across his shoulder in silent threat.

"Ya got a wallet on ya, buddy?" a second man asked, pulling a small switch blade from his pocket as he tried to decide what the blue haired man had on him that would be worth money.

Grimmjow's grin only grew wider. How typical. These rodents hadn't even realized they were in the presence of a bigger and badder predator, a killer. "Nah. The only thing of any real value on me is this" The Hunter said in a calm, even voice. He reached behind his back and wrapped long fingers around the handle of his perfect new toy, watching the way the men before him studied his movements as if afraid he would pull a gun. They should be afraid, but not of a gun. They should be afraid of him.

The Don really had taste and Grimmjow had wasted no time in learning how to flip the butterfly knife open with ease and grace. The Hunter eased the knife out of his back pocket, the polished chrome of the handle glinting even in the yellowed and feeble street lighting. He held it up, the blade still folded within the artfully crafted handle, for the men to see before he took another step forward.

"This guy's just askin' for it" One of the men laughed, all of them obviously still seeing easy prey. They would soon learn just how wrong they were.

In a swift, fluid motion the blade was twirled free of it's split, hollow handle, nearly doubling the length of the weapon. He would teach them their error, make them understand the difference between predator and prey.

The Hunter rushed forward, his movements fluid and smooth, swift and flawless. He easily ducked the swinging bat, a deep rumbling laugh singing through the alley. His subtly curved blade sank deep into the left side of bat wielder's abdomen, slicing through flesh and sinking between ribs. As the man's lung deflated and Grimmjow's blade drank on it's first kill, the kid crumpled to the dirty ground where he would die and be found with the next dawn.

The Don had told him to quick. Grimmjow spun toward his next victim as he rose from his ducking crouch, the hollow sound of a falling bat echoing from the surrounding walls. The man with the switch blade screamed in fear, anger, retribution, but it was short lived. The Hunter's crimson stained blade stole his breath away in a deadly kiss, leaving his throat opened wide.

Grimmjow could deliver his message quickly, he could be a swift teacher. The third and fourth members rushed him head long, thinking to overwhelm the strange, blue haired killer in their midst while a fifth hung back and looked ready to wet himself. A big fist collided with the chest of one while the other dove onto the Hunter. Grimmjow snarled, a more animalistic sound than human, but the deranged smile on his face had yet to waver. He reversed the grip on his dagger with a flick of his fingers and drug the cruel blade down the arm trying to wrap around his thick neck.

Blood warmed steel sliced through muscle and tendon, the tip dragging against bone. The man screamed as his hand went limp and the severed muscles that controlled the movements of his fingers whipped and rolled up into his arm, no longer anchored in place. Grimmjow spun about and dropped to his knees, sinking his blade into the injured and screaming man's chest, abruptly ending his pained cries.

The surviving members of the small, local gang spun on their heels and fled. Two men survived the encounter with the young Don's formidable Hunter, the only two that could learn the bluenette's teachings fast enough. Shiro had told him to be quick and meet them back inside the restaurant. Grimmjow grinned at the retreating forms as he cleaned his hands and blade off on the jacket of the dead man at his feet.

He didn't bother shouting a warning to them, didn't bother telling them that he was one of Don Shirosaki's hit men. They would learn soon enough who he was, what he was. They would quickly learn that Don Shiro was not to be fucked with. Grimmjow sprang to his feet and quickly left the scene of his play ground, crossing the street as a light drizzle began seeping from the over cast sky. The morning news would simply relay more gang violence to the day time citizens of the city, there was no need for clean up.

The Don's car had been pulled away from the entrance, parked somewhere hidden from immediate view. Grimmjow tucked his cleaned knife away into the back pocket of his jeans and pushed the rotating glass doors open. He was immediately immersed in the typical, hushed sounds of a fancy, fine dining establishment. Gentle, quiet music floated just below the din of the casual conversation and the quiet roar of voices. The lights were turned down low, most of the tables were lit by candle, the aisles illuminated in the soft glow of shaded ceiling fixtures on long chains.

A waiter dressed in a black tuxedo flitted over to the bluenette and bowed slightly to his guest. "You must be the remaining member of Mr. Ogichi's party. Right this way, sir."

Grimmjow stuck his hands into the front pockets of his dark jeans to hide the blood still staining around the edges of and under his nails as he followed the man, a handsome smirk plastered to his features. He was led to the far end of the establishment, a quiet corner that had been raised a few steps above the main floor and sectioned off with a low wall.

A few men sat comfortably around the table, dressed in expensive, tailored suits and a dress in the case of a woman. Shiro sat facing the entrance to the private area, his back to a wall, something he did intentionally nearly everywhere he went that wasn't his own mansion. His customary smirk rested on his pale lips as his haunting gold on black eyes followed the predatory movements of his Hunter. He already recognized this man would be his top hit man, alongside Ichigo. They would be unstoppable.

The Handler also looked at his partner, his appraising gaze moving from toe to head as Ichigo searched for any signs that Grimmjow had been injured during his excursion. Mere play was all it had been, the truth of that shone in the man's all too blue eyes. Warm sepia locked with the sated and pleased, if not slightly crazed, cyan of a man who had just finished a round of satisfactory sex, almost ready for round two. Ichigo was hardly able to suppress the shiver that worked up his spine at the sheer ecstasy he found in the man's bright gaze. No sane human should get that turned on over taking the life of another, over spilling blood and drinking in the heady scent of the copper flavored fluids, feeling it coat and drip from long fingered, skilled hands. The Handler broke eye contact with his Hunter, glancing back at the Don as the man's lilting voice broke into his thoughts and did his best to ignore the disturbing stirring in his slacks.

"I'm impressed, tha' was pretty quick!" Shiro said, a wide smile on his face as he gestured the bluenette toward them.

The few people sitting across from the young Don, their backs to Grimmjow, turned to peer over their shoulders at the newcomer. The blue haired Hunter smirked, not feeling the slightest bit out of place amongst these powerful men and women. The blood on his hands, both figuratively and literally, helped him to fit right in, even if his background was a bit less cultured.

"You asked for speed, Sir" Grimmjow replied, rounding the table to take a seat at the Don's left. He could feel the eyes of the Don's guest's following his figure and he basked in the silent attention of other predatory people, of other murderers. He had quite literally stumbled into a perfect world, an under world that matched his insatiable needs.

"That I did, well done" Shiro smirked, watching the other don's reaction as she studied the Hunter. "How was yer new toy?"

Grimmjow practically purred with a crazed glee. His answer must have shown on his handsome face for the Don laughed, his lilting tone caressing the space to mingle with the subtle music. "Well then, Miss Kuchiki, shall we get ta business?"

"Of course, Mr. Ogichi" A petite, dark haired woman said from where she sat directly across from the Don. Her dark eyes glittered with a cunning intelligence as they briefly flitted over the two hit men at the albino's sides before settling back on the Don himself.

"Please, call me Shiro." The Don said, taking a sip from a glass of wine that had been set before him. He didn't bother introducing his team, it was expected for a man in his position to bring some sort of guard with him. The young woman did the same, leaving her entourage nameless as they sat quietly around her.

"Very well, Shiro. Firstly, my brother regrets that he was unable to attend this meeting personally and hopes that it will not reflect poorly on him or his want to enter business with you."

Shiro, his smirk still firmly in place, spoke up. "I've already been informed a the circumstances. There's no need fer worry" The young Don motioned toward Ichigo at his right and the Handler bent to retrieve the wrapped package from where he had sat it on the floor beside his chair to place it on the table between the Don and Miss Kuchiki.

The young woman looked confused for a moment, but did well in her recovery, her cool facade back nearly instantly as she looked at the gift sitting upon the table. Well aware of the very public place they were in, she kept her features mostly neutral, only allowing a very slight smile to grace her lips if anything at all. Not her family nor the young Don in front of her wanted any extra attention from the outside world, the world of the day. Meeting at this restaurant was more for the sake of appearances, especially for Don Shirosaki. His name was rising with an unnatural haste that was even showing in the city's day life, it would be good for his family to let the citizens put a face to his name.

"I was unaware we were supposed to be exchanging such formalities." The young woman finally settled for saying, not reaching out for the package that had obviously been pushed toward her.

Shiro chuckled, his watery voice sounding more like a distorted giggle. "We weren't, my dear. This is fer yer brother. He'll know wha' it means."

"Yes, of course, sir. Pardon my intrusion, but I cannot take this to don Byakuya without knowing what it is..." She shook her head slightly while her voice trailed off.

"Oh tha's no problem." Shiro smiled at her, his smirk growing to a somewhat sinister grin. "Please, be my guest, the top lifts off wit' out unwrappin it."

The younger Kuchiki sibling glanced to one of the men at her side, nodding for him to retrieve and open the package for her. He did as he was silently commanded, keeping his eyes trained on his boss and away from the private gift that was none of his business.

Rukia glanced down into the reasonably sized box, shifting a bit of tissue paper around until she caught sight of what was in the package. She gasped slightly, one hand raised to hover over her lips as she stared down at the object. A severed head stared back at her, the flesh pale in death, mouth gaping and once brown eyes clouded over and foggy. Spiced and scented potpourri had been scattered across the bottom of the box, covering the pungent scent of decay and death. The young woman trained her large, dark eyes back at the pale man sitting across from her while the lid to the box was replaced.

"Is this meant to be a threat, Mr. Ogichi?" Her voice was controlled and spoke of anger.

"Not at all, Miss Kuchiki." Shiro smirked at her, not at all fazed by what she had just seen, by what was sitting on the table between them. "It's a gift. Don Byakuya will understand, he too had some...issues wit' that nuisance. Jus' tell him it's ta show my willin' ness to cooperate wit' yer family"

"Very well, I shall" The young woman said, taking a sip from her own drink. She watched as the orange haired man at the albino's right leaned over to whisper something to the odd Don. She frowned in the sudden silence, the music of the restaurant seeming much louder than it had only moments ago.

Pale brows pulled together into a scowl, the smirk that had seemed a permeant feature of the Don falling to a straight line. Liquid gold slid toward the left, glancing at the blue haired man on that side of him. Shiro noted the Hunter's rigid posture, his muscles tense and his eyes locked on something at the other end of the establishment. He followed the Hunter's gaze, his eyes instantly landing on what didn't belong.

A small group had filtered into the restaurant, hoods pulled up to hide their features. Their jeans were dirty and smeared, their shoes old and scuffed. They had gained the attention of almost every patron within the building, their ragged clothing and the gait with which they walked making them stand out amongst the high society crowd.

Scowl turned into sneer as Shirosaki nodded in answer to his Handler. The orange haired man stood from his seat, straightening his tailored suit jacket before casually rounding the table, calling out the name of his Hunter as he went.

"Grimmjow" The bluenette let a slight smile creep across his lips and hopped from his seat, glancing down at the Don for a moment before swiftly following after his partner. The two quickly exited the private area that had been reserved for the Don and his guests and filtered out into the lower level, quickly disappearing to those not knowing who they were or what to look for.

Miss Kuchiki started to turn in her seat, intent on figuring out what was going on.

"Please, do stay here, Miss." Shiro said calmly, gaining the young woman's attention. Byakuya would never agree on a partnering if something were to happen to his younger sister, after all. His men could handle whatever was about to happen.

Shiro watched as his top Handler grabbed hold of the new Hunter's sleeve, noticing that the bigger man didn't tense up under the unexpected contact, rather halting and letting the Handler proceed him. Ichigo stood calmly before the intruders, obviously gang members looking for revenge on the odd man that had so easily taken down their brothers.

The albino Don sighed in exasperation. Well, at least he would be rid of a few more pests. Words were being exchanged, the gang member's loud and abrasive in the calm atmosphere while Ichigo's stayed at a level too quiet for anyone but the man to whom he spoke to hear.

Shiro turned back to the young woman at his table as the Hunter and Handler nearly forcefully escorted the disruptive rodents from the fine establishment, much to the gratitude of the patrons and the staff.

"What is that all about?" Rukia asked, looking at the strange man before her. He seemed so comfortable and confident sitting across from a high standing family member and her enforcers while he was without his team and seemingly unarmed. Even under friendly terms as they were, the situation could have still been dangerous for the Don.

"My Hunter, the blue haired one, ran inta a little trouble wit' a gang tryin' ta infiltrate my territory before he met up wit' us here." He said off handedly by way of explanation, flagging down their personal waiter. A man clad in a black tux hurried over, bending low to be on the same level as the powerful man he was serving this night, his hands clasped behind his back.

Shiro tucked a few bills into the man's pocket, probably doubling what he had made that day, and whispered something into his ear, a suggestive smirk tugging at his pale lips as they brushed just a bit to closely to the man's skin.

Rukia flushed almost as red as the waiter did. The young man straightened, stuttering to find an answer to whatever had been said while he looked down at the albino with wide eyes.

The Don chuckled in his watery voice, the sound somehow flattering and slightly wild at the same time. "How 'bout ya jus' make sure we're well taken care of an' left alone an' ya can think on it, ne?"

"O..Of course, sir. Thank you." The man bowed slightly before turning to scurry away, his face burning in shock and embarrassment.

Shouts from outside shattered the quiet atmosphere of the restaurant, pulling curious murmurs from the patrons and staff. The pale Don's unnatural scowl was back in place as he listened. The people closest to the front of the building gasped in shock as a single gun shot echoed down the street, quickly followed by the squeal of tires sliding on wet pavement.

Don Shirosaki climbed to his feet, his strange eyes trained on the front revolving doors as he curled his lip in a not so silent sneer. He vaguely registered the slightly nervous look the young Kuchiki woman was casting in his direction as he brushed passed her, headed for the exit. That had not been a gun owned by his Handler.

* * *

><p><strong>Oh Shiro, you little flirt, you~ XD<strong>

**Anyway~ Let me know what you think!  
><strong>

* * *

><p><strong><strong><strong><strong><em>ALSO, I shall be doing a Q&amp;A! <em>I've gotten some really good questions so far, but I'm still willing to answer more!  
>So ask away, everyone! It can be any random question you can think of; about this story, about one of my others, things pertaining to my writing, things not pertaining to my writing, whatever you would like know!<br>I will post the questions with the answers in a seprate file later on!******  
><strong>


	5. Chapter 5

**You finally get to figure out who got shot at the end of the last chapter 8D  
><strong>

**Enjoy~  
><strong>

* * *

><p>Features schooled to a controlled, confident calm, Ichigo clasped his larger Hunter's wrist in the hand he held behind his back to keep the bristling man from going after the gang members now facing them. He carefully kept himself between the bluenette at his back and man trying his hardest to rile him up further, knowing exactly what would happen should Grimmjow sink his teeth into the kid. They were still in the restaurant and it wouldn't do to startle the patrons more than was necessary, though letting the bluenette loose would probably do more than startle anyone. More like cause mass panic and add a few more casualties to bluenette's name.<p>

"I'm going to have to ask you to leave" Ichigo told the man in the most civil tone he could muster toward these vermin, taking another step forward to force the gangster to take a step back toward the doors. Predictably, the gang member stepped back slightly but stayed in his face, cursing and shouting much louder than was necessary in such a quiet and sophisticated atmosphere. Ichigo sighed a quiet, irritated breath.

"You think we're afraid of your little punk ass? You messed with the wrong people" The man pointed at the team, hardly recognizing them for who and what they were. The rodent was signing his own death certificate and hadn't had the privilege of being informed of the fine print.

Ichigo could feel his Hunter tensed behind him, the corded muscle of his body rippling and bunching as the man nearly shook with the need for blood, his fierce and explosive temper demanding an outlet. The big man radiated a heat that shouldn't have been so enticing under the circumstances, but Ichigo had to force it from his mind all the same and didn't give it a second thought. The arm encircled in his grip tugged slightly and Ichigo gave a slight squeeze, rather pleased when the blue haired killer stilled without a spoken command.

The Handler tentatively removed his hold on his partner in favor of keeping his hands free and in front of him with the unpredictable gang member still shouting and threatening him and waving his hands about in the orangette's face. Sighing at the realization that these men weren't going to make things easy, Ichigo roughly and quickly grabbed the front of the man's hooded sweatshirt, taking everybody by surprise. The quicker they got these fools out of here, the quicker they could get back to the Don's side and business could proceed in a normal, sophisticated and much safer way.

Showing far more physical strength than one would judge the slim orange haired man to posses, Ichigo jerked the man in the direction of the door, his face still a controlled mask of calm and betraying none of the simmering anger that hid below the surface. He shoved the gang member along with him, still keeping himself in between his violent Hunter and the two others that had followed the man in his grip. He was still determined not to let the blue haired demon spill blood within view of the patrons of the fine restaurant.

The man stumbled and tried to right himself, fighting against the orangette, but was unable to get the leverage needed when taken off guard and faced with the hit man's considerable strength. One of his buddies tried to come to his aid, edging around him to get to the Handler with obvious intent. He was met with the solid wall of a black clad chest as Grimmjow growled low in his throat and all too happily intercepted him.

The Hunter's fist clenched in the collar of the man's hoodie, a twisted smile creeping across angular features as the bluenette saw unease flash in the rat's eyes. It was clear this man was beginning to see the Hunter for what he was; a killer, a predator, a much larger animal than a rat.

"Not here, Grimmjow." Ichigo said, catching the barely concealed, all too telling glint in the man's cool cyan eyes. There was a touch of madness and chaos there, swirling and churning and begging release. He steered his charge out the revolving doors and out into the parking lot, a few relieved whispers of thanks following after he and his Hunter by the staff that had hovered near by, unsure what to do about the odd intrusion.

"How about now?" Grimmjow asked, his deep voice taking on an excited growling tone, very near a purring rumble. The man he had been dragging with him tried to throw a punch, aimed for the bluenette's muscled abdomen. Grimmjow chuckled as he caught the man's fist and pushed him away with enough force to nearly send the kid sprawling to the ground. This wouldn't even be fun.

"Of course not, you realize we're in the middle of a very public place, right?" Ichigo asked the Hunter, more amusement than anything showing in his tone. Maybe it turned the man on when he got to kill in cold blood, the whole thrill of being caught or something. Ichigo caught onto his own line of thinking and glanced over at his partner from the corner of his eye, the slightest bit of red tinting his cheeks.

"Yeah, it's kind of like exhibitionism only with murder instead of sex." The bluenette said, a devilish smirk on his handsome face. He turned his head to capture the smaller man's gaze, dropping his voice to a heated rumble. "But I could go for either right now"

Ichigo was saved the task of trying to figure out just how to decipher his new partner's smile and suggestive tone by the man Grimmjow had tossed away so casually. "What the fuck are you guys goin' on about? You're wasting our time, we got things to do."

Two sets of cunning, deadly eyes snapped to the man's form; one of wild blue, the other a calculating brown. Neither reacted outwardly as the man had predicted when they glanced down to the gun held in his hand, acting as if it weren't trained at them and could do them no harm.

Grimmjow looked back to his Handler, his question and want obvious in his ready posture and heated eyes. The cruel smirk on his features spoke more clearly than words could ever have and Ichigo found himself fighting back a grin to match the bluenette's.

"Ok, now's a good time" Ichigo told the man as they both burst into action. He drew forth his gun in a single, fluid motion, seemingly pulling it from no where.

The gun in the gangster's hand went off, but fear and surprise made his aim waiver and the shell lodged harmlessly into the building behind Ichigo. The Handler aimed and fired, the bullet whizzing passed the charging Hunter. It struck it's target with the precise accuracy expected of a man in his profession.

White teeth flashed in an almost playful sneer as the bullet flew over Grimmjow's shoulder, lodging in the chest of the man he had been preparing to maul. He glanced over his shoulder, directing the challenging, snarling smile toward his partner as he easily and swiftly shifted his course and attacked the man that had been standing near the now dead one.

His blade appeared in his hand, the handle already twirling open as he brought it around in front of him and to the ready. Grimmjow snarled as he sank the cold, unforgiving steel into the man's yielding flesh. His prey folded around the blade in his soft belly, eyes comically wide as he stuttered and blood began dripping down his chin from the incision made in vital organs.

Grimmjow twisted the dagger in a cruel and torturous motion before yanking it out, pulling bits of flesh and muscle with it. He let the rat fall to the ground, the man's life blood and bile pooling below his twitching body as he desperately tried to collect the coils of guts tumbling from the new opening in his abdomen. With an almost unnatural speed, Grimmjow spun and sprang toward the remaining gang member. The man was wisely attempting to flee, headed for the street and the shadowed alleyways on the other side. Grimmjow fleetingly recognized him as one of the men he had left alive in the alley but it hardly mattered anymore. He would be dead soon.

The Hunter caught up to the unfortunate man within moments, a little surprised when Ichigo didn't shoot his prey down and ruin his fun again. Much like a cornered animal will when all hope of escape is crushed, the fleeing man spun on him at the last moment as traffic sped by only feet away. The action hardly fazed Grimmjow, even when the shining metal of a gun caught the light of a passing car. He had expected as much and knew how to react accordingly.

What did nearly halt the Hunter in his tracks was the sound of a different gun going off from somewhere behind him and to his left, a gun he didn't recognize or know about and therefore hadn't been able to plan for. Fire rocketed up his spine as lead bit through thick muscle and smooth flesh. His manic grin fell even as he plunged his bloodied dagger into the prey before him, a surprised grunt falling from his lips. Grimmjow's momentum and strength worked against him to propel him and force him to follow through with the motion, the impact of the bullet only serving to over balance the Hunter.

The man's hands grasped at the Hunter's tight clothing as searing metal carved a ragged, imperfect gash deep into his flesh, burning cold as it tore through intestine. The larger bluenette stumbled forward, unable to catch himself as lightning flashed through his body and blood matted the back of his shirt, pushing the two of them toward the street. The reaching, desperate hands slipped across the black fabric, slicked with his own blood and the Hunter's, unable to find purchase and hopeless to cease their combined momentum.

Ichigo's smooth voice registered loudly in Grimmjow's mind, blending with a much closer, higher pitched shrieking made by something mechanical and unforgiving. The Hunter snarled, baring his teeth as bright headlights seemed to darken the world around him. The smell of burning rubber and dirty rain water engulfed his heightened senses, the cloying scent of his own blood floating just below. Metal crunched and groaned on impact, brakes locking up as they were pushed beyond their limit by the terrified driver.

The Handler spun about, his gun instantly trained on the hidden man that had shot his partner in the back. He fired, hardly sparing the man a second glance as he rushed forward toward his prone Hunter, the sound of screeching brakes and the horrifying crunching of metal and bone echoing impossibly loud from the surrounding buildings and through his ears.

The doors to the restaurant, meters behind him now, opened, issuing a very shocked looking albino. Don Shirosaki's watery string of worried cursing trailed him as Ichigo raced through the parking lot, unable to move fast enough.

The gang member Grimmjow had stabbed and dragged down with him, bleeding out and dying even as he forced himself off the pavement beside the stunned bluenette, reached for the dagger still clenched in a white knuckled grip. The Hunter had taken the brunt of the hit, inadvertently saving the man he had been killing moments ago. His chest rose and fell in quick, shallow motions, his face pale as a growing pool of crimson spread around him but his blue eyes were clear and stared up at his knife in the man's hands as it was raised to hover over him, now held in a shaking, blood smeared hand that wasn't his own. He bared red stained teeth, a nearly pathetic growl escaping his throat that forced coughing to wrack his mangled frame and the bitter, metallic taste of blood to coat his tongue.

"Grimmjow! Get the fuck up!" Ichigo shouted as he darted into the middle of the street, watching the abused gang member raise the blade. Time seemed to slow, everything happening much too slow and much too fast at the same time. It was confusing and terrifying and the Handler desperately pushed himself forward, toward his injured and bleeding partner. He watched as the bluenette's eyes rolled toward him, searching for a split second before piercing through his very being with their tormented clarity; rending pain and helpless understanding swirling in their depths. He could see the man strain to listen to his command, watched as the man's teeth were bared and his eyes squeezed shut against the immense pain of trying to force his damaged and unresponsive body to move.

As the dagger was being driven down, it's mark aimed for the weakly struggling Hunter's heart, Ichigo yelled his wordless fury and dove to cover his partner. The bluenette's weak panting breaths reached his ears as he snagged the gang member's arm, wrenching it painfully until the man cried out and released the dagger, the handle separating and nearly closing around the blade as though it hadn't wanted to strike it's true wielder as it struck the blacktop.

An unusual anger welled in the normally calm Handler as all other sounds, save for the small noises his Hunter made in his struggle, were lost on him. He wrenched the arm in his grip until he felt more than heard the snap of bone, then drove the man back to the cold, damp blacktop. He drew his arm back and snapped his fist forward, shattering the man's nose in a fountain of blood. The gang member didn't fight back as he was beaten to a pulp and his already flickering life was ended at the hands of a furious Handler.

A hoarse, gasping groan reached the orange haired man's ears, drawing his attention quicker than an order from the Don himself could have. The Handler choked a gasp out while he looked down at his partner. "Ich...i..."

Ichigo couldn't decide if he was happy that the mangled Hunter was conscious and aware enough to speak his name or if he was horrified for the man and the unfathomable amount of pain he had to have been in. The Handler dropped to his knees beside the injured man, almost afraid to touch him as he stared down at the struggling creature that was his Hunter. The immense, unbreakable determination refused to leave furious, slightly glazed blue orbs, even though it was clear Grimmjow himself understood just how bad a shape he was in.

Don Shiro slid to the ground beside his favored team, phone cradled between his shoulder and ear as he shrugged out of his white suit jacket. He shouted orders through the devise as he grunted slightly and tore a long strip from the thick, expensive material in his colorless hands. White soaked up the red of the bluenette's blood, the thick liquid seeping into the seems and spreading through the fabric's fibers like clawing fingers, racing ever outward as they fled the bluenette's shattered body.

Ichigo pulled his gun, just now realizing it had somehow found it's way back into the holster at his back, as hurried footsteps approached. People were beginning to crowd around the scene of the accident and sirens could be heard in the background. Molten brown met briefly with liquid gold. If the police arrived, or an ambulance to cart the deathly injured bluenette to the hospital, they would surely learn the man's identity and he would be locked away when he recovered; a fate both men knew he would find worse than death.

"We gotta move 'im..." Shiro whispered, looking around at the growing crowd as he finished tying off the gun shot wound that still bled freely, wrapping the torn strip of the thick material that belonged to his once perfect jacket around Grimmjow's battered and broken torso.

The Hunter panted, a very quiet whine escaping as he tried yet again to raise himself from the dirty street. He trembled with the effort, the pain and the chill that was slowly seeping through his body as if replacing the blood that seeped out. He weakly managed to get one arm under him before it gave out and he crumpled back to the ground.

"Stay still, Grimm" Ichigo murmured quietly as he slid his arms under the big man's shoulders to begin lifting him from where he lay. The corded muscle under his hands went lax as the Hunter complied, red stained lips peeling away from over-sharp teeth for a moment, mocking the Hunter's natural aggression.

Shiro gently draped what was left of his jacket over Grimmjow's mangled abdomen, shaking his head slightly as he glanced up at the ruined front of the car that had struck the Hunter. The guy may as well have hit a deer or two; the hood of the car was crumpled, the windshield spiderwebbed, the bumper hung from one side, the other resting on the gritty, blood and rain puddled rode and the pungent smell of oil wafted through the air. Blood smeared a nearly perfect print of where Grimmjow had connected, dented and pitted. The Don looked back toward the parking lot as he stood, grabbing the bluenette's legs to help Ichigo lift him as smoothly as possible.

His white vehicle awaited them, only a few meters away and behind the crowd. As the two men lifted the bleeding Hunter from the rode, thick sticky drops of his blood pattering from his body to add to the pool on the ground and coating their expensive attire, a small woman shouted above the noise of the crowd, ordering for the on-lookers to back off. What her strong voice couldn't do, the young Kuchiki woman's guards did for her and a path was quickly cleared.

Grimmjow's blue eyes rolled back, his lids drooping closed, his brow furrowed as he fought to stay conscience as crashing waves of electricity like pain wracked through his all too aware system. His chest heaved with the need for oxygen he couldn't pull into his stunned lungs, each panting exhale carrying a barely audible whine that didn't escape his Handler's acute and undivided attention.

As they approached the vehicle, the driver threw the door open and Shiro paused, letting Ichigo proceed him into the car. Very carefully, the Handler ducked backwards into the vehicle, passing most of the injured Hunter's considerable weight to the Don momentarily. He slid across the seat, uncaring of the blood and dirt he smeared across the plush leather upholstery. He leaned forward and accepted the bluenette's limp weight again, gently pulling him into the car and cradling the man's head and neck in his lap, noting that Grimmjow had fallen completely still and quiet other than his panting breaths.

Shiro quickly climbed into the vehicle, closing the door behind himself since he had sent his driver back around and to the wheel. As the door slammed shut, the vehicle pulled away from the crowd and the restaurant with a screech of tires and a roar of the supped up and powerful engine. Shiro opened his window, catching large, violet eyes for a moment before he diverted his attention back the injured man his top Handler cradled in his lap.

"Fuck..." Ichigo mumbled quietly in a strangled voice, unable to wrap his mind around what had gone so wrong; a lucky cheap shot and a freak accident. He smoothed the blood soaked strands of once unruly blue hair away from the Hunter's unnaturally drained looking face. "Don't you dare die."

Too pale, red stained lips parted slightly, barely showing off a slightly over-sharp fang for a moment before Grimmjow sucked in a ragged breath. He pried his heavy lids open to glance up at the Handler with somewhat dulled eyes. "that a...command?" He forced out with his exhaled breath.

Ichigo almost laughed, but it would have been a manic and unhinged sound, loud in the quiet car and more than likely just a little disturbing. He settled for a very slight upward tilt of his lips instead and looked down at his Hunter. "It is."

Grimmjow nodded ever so slightly as he spoke in a hoarse, quiet voice, his brilliant eyes sliding closed again. "Ok...I'll be fine...then" His body trembled and jerked, his fingers and lips beginning to take on a blueish color even though it wasn't all that cold in the warm car. He had lost too much blood much too fast. It was a testament to his will and stubbornness that he was still mostly aware let alone able to speak.

Shiro reached across the vehicle from the opposite seat to further wrap what was left of his jacket around the big man, concern openly showing on his ashen face as he looked down at the bluenette's features, Grimmjow's color way too close to his own for anyone's comfort.

The rest of the drive was made in tense silence, the only sound was that of the soft patter of thick droplets trailing down long fingers to start a small puddle on the floor of the car and the Hunter's forced breaths. Even ragged as the slightly wet sounding breathing was, it was a welcome sound that proved the bluenette wasn't willing to go back on what he said. He wouldn't die without one hell of a fight.

The driver turned into the drive, the large gates already opened up and waiting for the Don and his men. The vehicle sped down the driveway, taking the circle a bit fast but the situation called for all haste and no one in the vehicle noticed. Ichigo did his best to hold the injured man in his lap still and keep him from being jarred about too much as the car was pulled to a stop at the mansion's entrance.

Szayel was waiting for them as the doors were opened by the Don's door men, the gurney from the in-mansion hospital room sitting just inside the portal. The effeminate doctor rushed through the door as the engine was killed and the back door was thrown wide, rocking on the hinges slightly and groaning at the harsh treatment.

Ichigo adjusted his hold on the bluenette's upper half as he backed out the vehicle through the opposite door he had originally entered. The doctor was by his side in a flash, pen light in hand and already inspecting some of the superficial wounds and taking vitals as Shiro climbed from the car and helped the Handler transport the larger Hunter up the wide staircase.

Grimmjow was eased onto the gurney, hardly conscious but some part of him was still awake and aware, a more primal side the man never let sleep. As Szayel began cutting the Hunter's blood soaked and torn shirt away from his mutilated body, pale lips peeled away from over-sharp teeth and the hit man snarled a wordless warning, his blue eyes still closed as he weakly tried to rid himself of the foreign hands grasping and tearing at his shirt.

"Grimmjow" Blue brows furrowed further at the voices calling his name, sounding more distorted and harder to focus on than normal. He pried his eyes open, blinking to try to clear his blurred vision and realized that he was moving. White ceiling tile sped by above him, making his already unstable body revolt in a very unpleasant way that promised more blood and bile than the actual contents of his stomach. He dropped his wavering gaze, catching a familiar white blur toward his feet that he couldn't seem to focus on, before looking back up. Tilting his head back a bit, he finally caught orange in his field of vision. The orangette was closer to him than the Don, easier to focus his fading vision on.

"It's just Szayel...Let the doctor do his job" The voice was soft, comforting and smooth. The voice of his Handler, of Ichigo.

Grimmjow took a few shallow breaths, trying to force more oxygen into his lungs. He furrowed his brows, baring his teeth again when a mask was placed over his face, covering his mouth and nose, but a warm hand settled on his cheek and the reason for his anger quickly faded from his hazy mind.

The Hunter nodded ever so slightly. "S...so we can...get" He tried to swallow around the thick liquid in the back of his throat, beyond the point of being able to register that it was his own blood. He and his Handler had already had this conversation what seemed like days ago, but somewhere he knew it to be only earlier that evening.

Ichigo, carefully studying the man laying on the gurney he and the Don were guiding into the in-mansion hospital room, let a slight smirk quirk one side of his lips as he realized what the Hunter was getting at. "Yes, so we can get back to work, Grimmjow"

A pleased rumble left the injured man's throat, a fraction of it's usual heat and strength behind the sound but it was there nonetheless. Ichigo watched, helpless to stop it, as blue eyes rolled back and the man's body went completely lax once again, his strength finally giving out and giving in to the weakening state of his body.

Szayel locked the brakes of the mobile gurney and shooed the other two men back out of his way, instantly getting to work in saving the Don's prized Hunter. He finished divesting the man's unconscious body, stripping away blood saturated cloth and quickly cleaning away the dirt and debris in his way. The bluenette was a mess, to put it simply, and he hadn't even started taking an internal look yet.

His first task quickly became stabilizing the man so that he had a bit more time to work with. In order to do that he would need a bit more than what he had here. He had taken blood samples the first night the new Hunter had been laid out in front of him, before he had been officially recruited by Shirosaki, and so already knew what type he needed.

"Sir, grab my phone, if you would" The doctor said, pointing toward his pocket with a gloved hand as he continued his assessment of the injured man. He could easily get ahold of what he needed, especially now that he had the Don's extensive bank backing him. It was more just a matter of the time they didn't seem to have.

Shiro did as he was asked by the pink haired man hovering over what had very quickly become his favored and best Hunter. He pulled the phone from the man's pocket and flipped it open, awaiting further instructions, knowing that Szayel didn't have time to do it himself and re-sterilize so that he could begin working again. The doctor quickly recited a number from his near photographic memory and Shirosaki quickly typed it in.

"Very good, now put it on speaker if you would, please" Szayel said behind his white medical mask, yellow eyes trained on what he was doing.

The Don did so, placing the phone on a counter near where Szayel stood and stepped back again. He and Ichigo watched as the doctor carefully rotated the Hunter's head, one hand pressed to the back of his neck, feeling for any fractures or breaks. He checked the injured man's throat, then the doctor pulled a length of tubing from where he had already placed it on a free standing tray near by as the phone rang on the other end. He tilted the bluenette's head back, using his thing fingers to open the man's jaw as he did so. Thin, pink brows furrowed slightly and Szayel glanced over his shoulder.

"I'm going to need one of you to hold his head back like this, so that I may intubate."

Without putting much thought into it, Ichigo quickly covered the short distance between he and the gurney. He pulled on a pair of rubber gloves that Szayel indicated before gently holding his unconscious partner's head the way the doctor instructed.

The person Szayel had been trying to contact finally picked up, a much too cheery greeting filling the tense room. "Why hello, Mr. Granz. It's certainly been quite a long while since the last time we spoke, since your license was revoked."

Szayel continued feeding the tube down Grimmjow's trachea, it's intent to help keep the Hunter's airway clear and help him breath while the doctor worked. "It has indeed, unfortunately, I haven't the time to chat with you at the moment."

"What can I get for you, Szayel?" The man's tone went from cheerful to serious, obviously able to detect the tightness and rush in the pink haired man's voice.

Ichigo continued following what the doctor instructed him to do, tuning out the doctor's conversation as he and the man on the phone detailed what Szayel knew he needed and how to deliver it within the quickest time span possible. At some point, the Don was pulled out of the room, disappearing to take care of something or another. By the time Szayel had done all he could for the mangled, damaged Hunter, Ichigo was throughly exhausted. He was covered in blood not his own, smelling of his injured partner and gunpowder. The harsh, sterile soap in the hospital room did little to mask the smell and Ichigo finally gave up as the pink haired doctor almost pushed him out the door, telling him to rest while Grimmjow did the same.

Szayel quietly thanked the Handler for his assistance and dropped into an office style chair as he pulled his soiled gloves off and reached for a clipboard. It looked like the big Hunter had been hit by a truck; internal bleeding and bruising, broken bones, lacerations and a gunshot wound to top it all off. He would later find out just how close to the truth that was. If nothing else, he was convinced the Hunter was a rather tough bastard. He was convinced the man would survive, if by sheer stubbornness alone and he had told Ichigo the same, trying to reassure the distraught man.

Ichigo quietly left the hospital room, almost needing to be forced out by the doctor. Something inside him twisted painfully at the thought of leaving the injured Hunter alone and unattended for too long, even in the safety of the Don's mansion.

"Tch. Kills his first Handler and his second lets him nearly get killed in return."

Ichigo froze mid-step as he was pulled from his depressing thoughts by the truth that other's had apparently already noticed, word certainly traveled fast in the mansion. His head snapped around to pin the pair of men traversing the extensive but well known halls, headed in the opposite direction as he was. An angry scowl clouded the top Handler's features, an underlying sorrow shimmering in his warm eyes.

"oooh, that was just cruel" The more effeminate of the two men said, smacking at his Hunter's shoulder lightly before grasping the bald man's sleeve to begin dragging him away before he could further anger their superior. "Terribly sorry, Ichigo, dear. Ikkaku doesn't understand that everyone makes mistakes."

The words, both from the lower ranking Hunter and from the lower Handler, cut the orangette deeply, deeper than a physical wound would have and maybe a little more deeply than they should have. It seemed he was already beginning to get attached to the brash man the Don had paired him with. He stood frozen in the hallway, listening to their echoing footsteps and the words they had spoken as they bounced inside his skull.

"Huh. I understand people make mistakes." Ikkakue shot back at his partner as they headed toward the front of the mansion. He hardly realized or cared that he was still within range of the other Handler. "Just expected differently from the Don's top."

Hardly even registering the rest of the walk down the hall, Ichigo unlocked the door to his and the injured man's shared suite, letting the door swing shut behind him as he slid through the doorway. Even after scrubbing as much of the blood off in the hospital room's sink, he still couldn't get the smell out of his nostrils.

He stripped from his ruined suit as he slowly made his way to the bathroom, leaving the clothing lay wherever it happened to land. A maid would come by to pick it up and dispose of it properly. Disgusted and ashamed, Ichigo realized the thick smell he was coated in was enough to make him half hard. Even knowing it was his partner's blood...

The Handler hung his head as he turned the water on to the shower, turning the tap until steam billowed to fog the room and the mirrors so that he wouldn't have to look at himself as he wrapped thin fingers around his erect member.

Standing below the hot spray, the Handler couldn't help but watch as the red stained water that sluiced over his smeared body swirled down the drain. It slicked his fingers and dripped from the head of his cock as he stroked. Wild blue eyes and a handsome, grinning face smeared in deep crimson flashed in his mind when Ichigo closed his eyes and he came with a grunt. The high of his release was short lived and felt wrong on too many levels for him to think about. The Handler grabbed a bottle of shampoo as he let the near scalding water wash away the evidence of his dirty little secret.

The sweet smell of the shampoo finally cleared away the last lingering scent of blood from the Handler's senses, leaving Ichigo feeling almost dirtier than he had before he had stepped into the shower. He turned the water off, guilt swirling in his stomach and refusing to go down the drain with the water.

Ichigo dried himself off and stepped from the washroom, unsurprised when he found that the articles he had been wearing that evening were gone from his suite, any soiled trace that they may have left behind cleaned away for him. He pulled on a clean pair of slacks and a white button up, not bothering to actually button it.

As he made his way toward the hall entry, he passed the opened door to the Hunter's room. He sighed as he saw the mess the man had made of his room when going through suit after suit that he would more than likely never wear. Whether he recovered or not. Ichigo heaved a quiet sigh and entered the room, feeling a bit odd, like he was intruding on the man's private territory even though Grimmjow hadn't been staying there for long, had yet to even spend a night there.

As the orange haired man continued to think about his new partner, he slowly began picking the discarded clothing up from the floor and refolding it. He hung suit jackets and slacks on hangers, sliding them back into place in the large walk-in closet, noting just how much larger than his own all of the bluenette's clothing was.

Grimmjow would recover, Ichigo decided. He hadn't known the man all that long, it had only been a few weeks, maybe a month since he had stumbled onto the Don's grounds. But he knew the man wouldn't give it up. The blue haired man was bold, tough. He had a crazed sort of aura about him, like an unpredictable creature. He would be up and demanding a hunt before the doctor deemed him healthy, he would recover and he would want revenge. The longer he thought about what had happened, the more Ichigo's guilt from his earlier deed finally began washing away, forgotten and replaced by something he couldn't quite name yet.

Grimmjow would tear apart the city looking for anyone affiliated with the gang that had laid him up in a hospital bed. Ichigo didn't really know how, but he knew it to be true. He knew Grimmjow would want blood, he would screaming and pain and he would enjoy every second of the torment he would ultimately cause. The Hunter would have his fun, the destruction to the gang would be devastating and the Don would be pleased to be rid of the vermin in his growing territory.

Ichigo's self-disgust gave way to an odd, twisted sort of acceptance. Something told him blood and death and violence had a similar affect on the bluenette, the only difference being that Grimmjow wouldn't bother to hide or repress it. Instead, he had nurtured it until he had become the killer he was now and ultimately, the perfect Hunter.

Minutes went by, ticking into hours as Ichigo continued preparing the man's room for his eventual return. He would help insure Grimmjow recovered, he would do all that he could. He should have seen the coward hiding from them, should have detected the unseen bastard that had shot the bluenette in the back and caused all this in the first place. That was his job, after all. But he hadn't, and he wouldn't dwell on it. He would simply do what he could and leave the rest to the stubborn Hunter. His stubborn Hunter.

Ichigo finally looked upon the clean room, giving a pleased nod at both his handiwork and his new resolve. The Handler left the room, pulling the door closed behind him. He left their shared suite and turned down the hall, headed toward the infirmary. And if he just so happened to run into Ikkaku and Yumichika in the hall again, he would have to make sure to remind them why he was at the top and they were not.

Ichigo smiled to himself. Maybe Grimmjow would be up for a friendly duel against the pair when he awakened and recovered.

* * *

><p><strong>Nothing quite like a friendly rivalry to spur someone into getting healthy again, yeah? Or maybe Ichigo just want's to take his anger and frustration out on something *shrug* (also, if the car seems a bit random, it was mentioned in chapter 4 of the original <em>Dinner with the Family<em>, when Shiro was remincing about all the things that couldn't kill Grimm)  
><strong>

**Well, what do you think?  
><strong>


	6. Chapter 6

**Not too sure how I feel about this chapter but it's not going to get any better, so I'm done with it and moving on :/  
>Try to enjoy~<br>**

* * *

><p>Sweat dripped down the sides of boyishly handsome features and dampened long, vibrant orange locks that had been tied back into a tail, keeping it mostly out of the way. Lithe muscle snapped taunt as the Handler jumped into a spinning kick, forcing his opponent for this particular match to throw his arms up in an effort to block his face. Ichigo, panting as he exerted himself and refused to stop the training match, vaguely heard his phone ring from where it lay with his shirt on a bench near by the sparing ring as he landed in a low crouch. He ignored the device, diving back in at his target once again.<p>

The man he was fighting against blocked the blow and danced out of the orangette's range momentarily, surprisingly quick for such a big man. He threw a few of his own hits, but Ichigo could tell the guy wasn't really trying. That was fine, though. The top Handler didn't need the extra training or work he had been participating in, he just needed to stay busy and he could do that whether the giant of man hit back or not, so long as he let Ichigo beat on him for a while.

"Ichigo! Your phone is going off again!" A cheery, high pitched girls voice called to the Handler, hardly the distraction most would think it was. Ichigo was used to diverting his attention during a fight or transaction, it was part of what his job entailed.

"Yeah, I hear it, Yachiru" Ichigo panted as he addressed the other Handler, waving his hand in a dismissive motion toward the small, pink haired girl. It was almost scary to think that this girl was the Don's second best Handler, and even crazier that she was able to control the beast that was Kenpachi. The man practically turned into a docile, well trained puppy whenever the girl was near; a really big puppy.

The orange haired Handler imagined Grimmjow and Kenpachi would get along quite well after they actually got too meet in more than passing. Either that, or they'd kill each other, it was really a situation that could go either way. Ichigo ducked, grunting his surprise as said man retaliated with what would have been a devastating blow. As Ichigo readied his stance again, feet dragging a bit as his body tried to tell him it needed rest, Kenpachi stopped abruptly, standing up straight as he looked at Ichigo for a moment. Then he turned and left the ring, stepping over the painted boundary marker on the ground and making his way toward his own Handler without a word, adjusting the patch covering his right eye as he went.

"Hey, where are you going?" Ichigo asked as he doubled over slightly, resting his hands on his knees and pulling in deep lungfuls of air.

"I have other things to do, Ichigo, and so do you." The pink haired girl scaled her larger partner like some sort of spider monkey and the two turned and left the training facility together, leaving Ichigo alone in the suddenly silent and ominous room.

The Handler sighed as he ambled over to the bench that held his shirt and phone. Plopping down onto it, he grabbed a near by towel and water bottle. Kenpachi was right, he did have other things he needed to take care of, namely checking up on his still bedridden partner. But Ichigo couldn't bring himself to visit the man quite yet, he always waited for the mansion to go silent while everyone slept before he snuck into the hospital room that the blue haired Hunter had occupied for the past few days.

The accident had, as assumed it would, made the headlines with the coming of that dawn. The morning news was plastered with footage of the crash site; blood spattered pavement, bodies wrapped and zipped in tarp like body-bags being carted off, police officers racing about and a destroyed car. But the actual victim to be hit by the car was no where to be found and, after a few well placed threats and bribes, no one seemed to have an accurate description of the man nor how he had gotten away. The story mysteriously failed to repeat for the afternoon edition and was nothing more than the occasional whisper now, rumor having spread about whom the injured man had been affiliated with and what would happen if such taboo things were spoken of too loudly.

So far, Grimmjow had only awoken a few times from his drug and injury induced state of unconsciousness and those times hadn't seen the Hunter in any coherent state. Each instance had only lasted a few seconds, minutes at the most, just long enough for the bluenette's features to twist into a sneer and let a small rumble pass his lips. Then he would inevitably fall back into a state that mocked sleep, brow creased and looking rather unhappy.

Each time the man woke up and Ichigo was there to see pain etch his features and draw blue brows together, it nearly broke the Handler's heart. Rage simmered in the normally calm orangette's gut, the murderous anger aimed toward the gang that had allowed it's members to do this to his partner. He hated seeing the fiery tempered Hunter laying in that white bed, in a just as white room. It didn't suit him and Ichigo felt that he was at least partially to blame. He should have seen that other guy and it made him feel guilty every time Grimmjow awakened to what must have been blinding pain and probably a fair amount of confusion.

But at the same time, each time he heard from the Don or the doctor that he had missed one of Grimmjow's rare moments of consciousness, it twisted something in his chest just as painfully. Szayel kept telling the Handler and Don Shirosaki that the blue haired Hunter was making progress, but it was slow going and rocky while he was still regaining the strength needed to heal. It was impossible to tell when the man would truly wake up. It could be tomorrow, it could take months, but Ichigo knew he would. He knew Grimmjow would pull through, the man had made a promise to his command, a promise not to die.

Ichigo dragged the now damp towel down his face and chest again before snagging his shirt. He had been working himself into exhaustion and he was beginning to feel it. His body trembled slightly with the need for rest. Real rest, not passing out in a chair by a hospital bed for a few hours before getting up to go find someone to spar with or discuss business with the Don.

The Handler pulled his shirt over his head as his phone started ringing yet again. With a sigh, Ichigo grabbed the device, a little surprised when the Don's name scrolled across his screen. He tapped it to connect the call and was cut short before he could even greet the albino.

"Fuck...finally. Ichigo, 's 'bout Grimmjow." The man's lilting voice was a little shakier than normal. He sounded exasperated and the way his voice echoed made Ichigo think the man was busy storming down one of the hallways like he did when he was hunting one of his staff members down to tell them they were being terminated. He suddenly felt bad for whoever the temperamental man was after.

"Wait." Ichigo's mind came to stumbling halt as he finally processed what the Don had actually said, his fatigue clearing in an instant. "What happened? Is he ok?" Ichigo was on his feet, yanking his shirt down to cover the rest of his abdomen before he had even finished his question.

"Ichi, we can' find 'im...Szazy was makin' 'is rounds and found the room empty..."

Ichigo cut whatever the Don had been about to say off as he shouted through the phone. "What? How does a bedridden man just disappear?" The Handler scrambled toward the exit of the large training facility, phone glued to his ear and panic trying to crawl it's way into his mind. There was no way something could have happened to his unconscious partner, Ichigo didn't know what he would do if something did.

His mind raced over the possibilities before it shot them down one by one as being illogical and impossible. No one had yet to infiltrate the Don's mansion without the albino knowing they were there and personally opening the doors for them and whenever the Don did have guests from other families over, they were kept away from his prized Hunter's hospital room specifically because of the possibility that one of them would see an opportunity to eliminate the Hunter that had become such an overwhelming threat in the city's underworld.

As Ichigo crossed the room, his pace increasing to nearly a sprint, the Don continued to tell him that he had already checked all the surrounding hallways and had even went so far as to check their shared suite with no luck. With his extensive injuries, neither the Don nor the Handler could imagine the man getting very far if he was indeed roaming on his own somehow.

"Dammit" The Handler cursed under his breath as he flung the doors wide and rushed out, hardly noticing or caring as the heavy doors banged into the walls behind them before slamming shut again.

"Yer at the trainin' facility, yeah?" Shiro asked his top Handler, his phone still held to his ear as he traversed the corridors of his mansion. He waited for the man's hurried affirmative before speaking again. "Good. I'm headed yer way now."

He was about to shut his phone and more than likely angrily shove it back into his pocket when a muffled grunt and curse from the other end of line had him pausing and placing the phone back to his ear. A split second later something clattered and banged loudly, sounding hollow and destructive from the other end. Shiro winced as he listened, jerking the phone away from his ear momentarily in surprise before realizing it was the Handler's phone crashing to the ground.

"Ichi? What happened? Ya ok?" When nothing but another muffled curse reached his ears, the Don took off in a run toward the training room, wondering what the hell was going on in his mansion.

As Ichigo rounded a corner in the hallway, headed back toward the hospital room his partner had gone missing from, he ran face first into something very solid. An angry curse left his mouth as his hands came up in reflex to brace himself, his phone tumbling to the floor and sliding across polished tile. Ichigo was about to push passed the brick wall of a man that had run into him, but his furious retort died in his throat and came out as a surprised squeak.

The man the Handler had collided with grunted weakly as he nearly hit the floor, unable to keep his balance in his still weakened and recovering state. A pair of strong arms wrapped around him, however, breaking his fall and helping him back into a mostly upright position.

"Jesus, Grimmjow! What the hell are you doing up?" Ichigo wrapped an arm around the bigger man's waist as he wavered on his feet slightly, still struggling with his extensive injuries and the medication the doctor had been pumping into his system since the accident. "Are you ok, how did you even get all the way over here?"

"Shut it." Grimmjow half growled, half mumbled to his Handler as he leaned more of his weight on the man. He couldn't concentrate on all his partner's hurried questions, nor did he really care much about them. "Had...make sure you were alright..."

Ichigo once again came to a stuttering halt when the bluenette leaned into his embrace and the man's warm breath fanned across his neck as he told his Handler to quit talking. The orangette couldn't be bothered to reprimand his Hunter as Grimmjow continued, his deep, rumbling voice sounding slightly jumbled and tired. "What?" Asked unintelligibly, incapable at comprehending that the man had been worried about his well being even as he was the one laying in a hospital bed, well, was supposed to be anyway.

"Can't remember what happened after the car..." Grimmjow tried to explain as he slouched further into the warm body pressed against his own. He had woken up unable to remember much. He remember sinking his blade into soft flesh and lightening racing up his spine as he had been shot, then the rest was a dark blur; bright headlights and his Handler screaming for him to get up. He had to be sure that Ichigo hadn't been hurt after he had been downed, something that he would eventually learn was completely unthinkable to him.

"N...no, I'm fine, Grimm" Ichigo assured the man, desperately ignoring the muscled body leaning against him and the hand that was splayed almost protectively across his lower back. "Let's get you back to bed" He said in a bit of a softer voice, adjusting his grip on the injured man.

They made it a few steps before Ichigo unlatched himself from his larger Hunter, making sure the man was steady enough to stay standing. He stooped and snagged up his phone, wrapping an arm around the man's waist again as he stood before checking it. The call had been disconnected and he imagined the Don wasn't too happy, though it would be understandable. Using one hand, Ichigo opened up his recent calls and tapped on the Don's number, reconnecting the call before placing it on speaker and dropping it into the pocket of his button up shirt so he could continue assisting his partner.

The first shrill ring made his Hunter jump slightly, having not been expecting the sudden noise, stumbling as he did. Ichigo couldn't help but chuckle a bit as he tightened his grip on the man and they continued down the hall at a slow but steady pace. He hadn't realized the call had been connected until Shirosaki's watery voice filtered through the speaker.

"Ichi? Ya there?"

"Yes, Sir." Ichigo said, a little distracted as he payed more attention to the man he was guiding down the hall than to his phone. "I found him, we're on our way back to the infirmary now."

"Where was he? 's he alright?" Shiro asked, but his question wasn't answered by Ichigo. Rather, it was indirectly answered by the blue haired Hunter himself.

Grimmjow growled at the Handler's side, sounding much stronger and more menacing than the last time such a sound had passed his throat. "I'm not layin' in that damn room any longer" He said in answer to what Ichigo had told the Don.

Shiro chuckled a little, relief flooding his system at hearing the man's gruff tone. It seemed Grimmjow was still his surly self.

"You have to, you're still recovering." As the Handler's voice echoed to him through his phone and from down the hall, Don Shiro snapped his phone closed, dropping it back into his pocket.

"Not happening." Grimmjow grumbled as he and Ichigo rounded a slight bend in the hall, coming face to face with the Don. Ichigo pulled to stop, the sudden halt enough to unbalance the injured man.

The bluenette grunted quietly as the arm around his waist tightened to hold him close to his Handler and keep him from stumbling. His vibrant cyan gaze landed on the Don, much more clear than it had been in days though still tired, before Grimmjow closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He sneered even as he felt fatigue getting the better of him, the seemingly agonizingly long walk having taken most of his energy. Not really in the mood to care about much, he let more of his weight lean on the strong man at his side.

Slight concern flashed through expressive, sienna eyes at the bluenette's actions. Ichigo glanced down at his Hunter's slumped form, only receiving an eyeful of tussled blue for his efforts. The Handler sighed.

"Why don't you want to go back to the infirmary? The doctor can take better care of you there, help you heal faster so we can get back to work." He tried, hoping to get the man to agree rather than be stubborn and make things that much more difficult.

"That's the problem. He keeps givin' me shit that numbs me up." The bluenette slurred a bit, still leaning heavily on Ichigo and not bothering to open his eyes as he spoke. He would have been quite content to just sleep right where he was at so long as his Handler made sure to keep that creepy doctor away from him.

"Grimmjow, the medicine is to help with the pain..." Ichigo deadpanned, glancing at the Don for assistance. He clearly wasn't going to get any if the amused smirk on the albino's face was anything to go by.

"Yeah..." Shiro saw the slight quirk to the bluenette's lips as the Hunter spoke, his face only inches from Ichigo's neck, much to the man's pleasure. "but I'd like ta be able to feel if my dick's hard er not while I'm pressed against you."

Ichigo's mouth worked a couple times, searching for something to say as his face heated up and turned bright red. He shifted his hold on the larger man and noted that, thankfully, Grimmjow didn't have a hard on. Though he was pretty sure it would have been rather visible in the baggy, white scrub pants Grimmjow was wearing if he had been. His face heated up even more as his own thoughts began to wonder.

Shiro's smirk grew to split his face in half before the powerful young man erupted into a fit of lilting laughter that echoed down the hall. "Ok, ok" The Don said, attempting to gain control of himself again. His odd, gold on black eyes shone with mirth and a truth that his Handler hadn't even began to understand yet. "Ichi, take 'im back ta yer rooms and I'll go fetch the doc so he can fix up Grimmjow's room an' tell ya how ta care fer 'im."

"Uh, yes, Sir." Ichigo mumbled, his face still a pretty shade of red. He could practically feel Grimmjow smiling against his shoulder, where the man's head still rested and he didn't need to see it to know that those perfect, white teeth were bared with his glee.

"Take me ta bed, Ichi" The bluenette all but sang out, having way too much fun at the Handler's expense.

"Oh god...Let's just pretend that's the drugs talking" Ichigo mumbled, though he had his doubts. He was never going to regain his normal color with this man leaning on him. The Don's watery chuckles reached his ears as Ichigo turned about, helping his Hunter toward their shared suite.

Nearly a half hour later, Grimmjow was out and comfortably laying in a real bed, his recovering body and the medication he had been administered having quickly taken their tole. He slept soundly, a natural sleep, while Ichigo watched the doctor quietly and gently exam the man's wounds and double check his vitals, trying his hardest not to wake the injured Hunter and more than likely fearful of the repercussions should he do so by accident.

Szayel finished his tense examination of the bluenette's healing wounds. He would quickly learn that tending to the man's injuries would ever be a tense ordeal, what with the over protective Handler ever vigilantly by his side. All things considered, the Hunter was doing remarkably well and was on a swift path to recovery once more, much to the pleasure of everyone in the room. After quietly explaining to Ichigo what he would have to do to take care of the injured man, the doctor gladly took his leave.

Don Shirosaki cocked his head to the side slightly, a smirk on his features as he leaned against the door frame to his favored Hunter's private bedchamber. His odd, liquid golden eyes shone with a kind, almost gentle amusement as he watched his top Handler watch the sleeping and recuperating bluenette.

It seemed Ichigo couldn't take his eyes off the peaceful looking Hunter. The Don imagined he could see the gears working in the more colorful man's mind as he studied every aspect of the blue haired man that was supposed to simply be his working partner, searching for something he had yet to be able to put his finger on. Something must have pulled those gears to a sudden halt, skewing and shifting the poor Handler's mind sideways, fore the gentle upward curve to his lips dropped into a slight scowl as understanding edged nearer.

Shiro snorted a laugh, rather unsuccessful at his attempt to hide his amused reaction. Ichigo turned to glare at him like he had completely forgotten about his boss' presence. With how intent he had been on the bluenette before him, Shirosaki wouldn't have been surprised. The Don ducked out of the door way, leaving his prized team to themselves so that they could both get some much needed rest. He wondered how long it would take Ichigo to realize his own attraction to his partner and he wondered just how long it would take Grimmjow to get impatient and prove in more than words his rather obvious attraction for the orangette.

The pale man shook his head, a wide grin crossing his features as he stuffed his hands into the pocket's of his white dress slacks and made his way through the halls of his mansion. Now that his missing hit man had been found and was doing well enough, all things considered, Shiro had work to do. The Don of a growing mafia family was ever busy.

Ichigo eventually dragged himself out of his partner's room, tired and more ready for bed than he had been in days. He undressed and climbed into his own bed, trying to convince himself there was nothing weird about staring at a sleeping man for the better part of an hour. He fell asleep to thoughts of the wild Hunter doing what he did best; a beautiful if not macabre dance that spilt blood and show cased the man's muscled form and a glinting blade.

Grimmjow awakened again with the next evening, understandably sore but just as stubborn and brash as ever. He carefully climbed from his bed, pulling in a deep breath as gravity and his injuries seemed to have different ideas but after a moment he steadying himself and straightened, pleased that he hadn't been taken back to that damn infirmary room.

The Hunter slowly made his way over to the walk-in closet on one side of his room, determined to change out of the white, hospital like sweatpants he had been changed into after the accident. It didn't take him long to find a pair of loose fitting jeans as he stepped into the closet. All the suits had been rehung on their hangers and pushed toward the back while all his jeans and more casual clothing had been arranged toward the front.

He pulled a pair of slightly faded pants from a hanger and closed the closet door. Pushing the white pants down and over his hips, he let the material pool on the floor before carefully stepping out of them. He could already tell his body didn't approve of him being up and mobile quite yet, but he didn't really care. He had never been the type to sit around and that wasn't likely to change anytime soon.

As the bluenette began the painstaking task of stepping into the clean jeans, he stumbled a bit, loosing his balance. He caught himself, a hand braced against the wall to help keep him steady, as a quiet rapping sounded from his closed bedroom door. His head snapped up to pin the door with eyes that screamed threat when the knob turned and the door unlatched, but as a familiar, smooth voice drifted to him, the look that promised danger was replaced by an equally devilish smirk.

"Grimmjow? Are you awake?" Ichigo asked, his voice quiet incase the Hunter wasn't actually awake yet. He had thought he heard the man moving around, but it was hard to tell with how quiet the Hunter could be. When he received a slight grunt in answer, the orange haired man continued. "Might I come in?"

"Sure" Grimmjow let his grin show openly on his face as the door swung the rest of the way open to reveal the gorgeous Handler, knowing the man would turn a wonderful shade of red yet again as he was granted the view of the mostly naked Hunter.

Ichigo stepping into the man's private room, vision looking from the bed where he had expected to see the man, to the side of the room, where Grimmjow stood in his boxers, one hand braced on the wall near the closet for support. The bluenette leaned a decent amount of his weight against the wall, bent over slightly and Ichigo worried he had hurt himself.

"Are you alright?" He asked, the worry evident in his silky voice as he rushed to his partner's side.

"Never better." Grimmjow chuckled, his grin widening as a thin yet strong arm wrapped around his waist to help him. "Just trying to put some pants on."

"Oh" Ichigo said, nodding slightly before he glanced over the bluenette again. "Oh..." He repeated, fighting the heat that was trying to consume his neck and face as he finally registered the man that was once again pressed up against him was only clad in a pair of thin boxers.

Grimmjow let out a barking laugh, throughly amused by the man's reaction. The Handler started to pull away, a scowl pulling at his features and helping him fight back his embarrassed blush. Grimmjow pushed his hand flush with the wall once more as the man's support left him to stand unsteadily on his own, a sneer crossing his own features. "Are you going to help me or not?"

Ichigo hesitated, feeling awkward and uncomfortable about being so near the man while he was dressed in so little.

Grimmjow snorted as if he could read the orange haired man's thoughts. "Fine. But if I end up back in that damn hospital bed, you're going to be stuck with me." He told his partner, voice very serious and much more clear and less slurred than it had been the previous night. He began reattempting to step into the pants, still finding it hard to stay balanced as he pulled at his injuries with the extra movement and stretching.

The instant Grimmjow started looking unsteady, that strong arm was back to keep him upright. He smirked to himself as he carefully pulled the jeans the rest of the way up to ride low on his trim hips. Grimmjow snagged a shirt from the closet as well, before heading toward the door, his Handler trailing behind him.

Ichigo edged around the bigger man as they entered the kitchenette area. His gun and it's holster were slung over the back of one of the chairs that sat around the small table and he grabbed it, affixing it around his waist and adjusting it with smooth and practiced motions that could only come from experience. Out of habit, the Handler pulled the gun from the holster that now aligned with his spine and checked the cartridge and safety.

Glancing at the clock, Grimmjow realized Ichigo had probably been on his way to the training facility again. Unable to go on missions with his Hunter being laid up and out of commission, there couldn't have been much else for the man to do. Standing on the other side of the small table, the bluenette shifted slightly as he watched the orange haired man finish readying himself. His blue brows drew together slightly and the muscle of his jaw tightened, feeling oddly naked without his dagger now that the other man was armed. It wasn't that he was afraid or even nervous to be around these dangerous people while unarmed, even injured as he was he could still put up one hell of a fight if he really had to, and he knew he certainly didn't have anything to worry about with Ichigo around. He just liked having his knife, or some type of blade with him. Ever since he was a kid he had carried a knife. Bladed weapons had become a part of him.

The orangette smirked a little, watching his Hunter from the corner of his eye while he replaced his gun in it's holster. He crossed the short distance to his own room, where he disappeared for a few seconds before returning, smile still on his face.

"The Don picked this up, thought you might want it back." Ichigo said, handing his partner his missing butterfly dagger. Shiro had grabbed it while they had been lifting Grimmjow out of the street, knowing that not only would the Hunter want his weapon back, but leaving it behind as hard evidence for the police wasn't wise.

Grimmjow's expression brightened back to his normal, slightly unhinged look almost instantly. He happily took the folded knife, a pleased hum rumbling in his throat. He expertly flipped the knife in his hands, splitting the hinged handle and flicking his wrist to swing the sharp blade free and around. He flattened his palm, confident that he wouldn't cut himself, and let the blade cease it's spin and come to a rest in his open hand. He raised it to inspect the weapon, pleased to see that it had been throughly cleaned and polished and the hinges were still well oiled.

The Hunter turned his overjoyed, shark like grin, full of perfect white teeth, to his Handler. Ichigo let his own smile pull at the corners of his pink lips, relieved to see that slightly crazed expression back on the man's angular face, it fit him well.

Grimmjow flipped the dagger closed again, letting the handle protectively encase the blade, and slid it into his back pocket. With one last look over of his partner, blue gaze scanning the man from head to toe, and a grin that could have suggested anything, the Hunter slowly made his way toward the door.

"Where are you going?" Ichigo asked, hurrying after his injured partner as the bluenette opened the door to disappear out into the corridor beyond.

"You were headed toward the training area, right?" The bluenette continued down the hall, headed in that direction and knowing that he was correct, his Handler glued to his side like a protective lover even if the orangette didn't realize it.

"Well, yes, but..." The Handler trailed off, hesitating to speak his mind. The last thing he wanted to do was piss the blue haired killer off. It would be seen as a challenge and Ichigo would feel awful if Grimmjow hurt himself trying to prove him wrong.

The Handler received an unamused snort in answer, before the man at his side sneered, piercing gaze trained down the hall and his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his pants.

"I know I'm not cut out to train with you again quite yet." Grimmjow said quietly, almost to himself as if he hated to admit it and Ichigo guessed he probably really did hate to admit to it, the Hunter was a very proud man, after all. "but that doesn't mean I can't at least tag along." Grimmjow finished with more of his usual fire.

Ichigo smirked and nodded his agreement, his vision also trained down the hallway.

After a moment, Grimmjow spoke again. "yesterday... you said you and Shiro hadn't been hurt...?"

The hesitant question caught Ichigo by surprise and it took him a moment to figure out what his Hunter was referring to. When realization dawned on the orangette, his brows furrowed slightly and he risked a glance in the bluenette's direction. He found nothing but genuine concern swirling in crystalline orbs. "Neither of us were harmed, Grimmjow..." Ichigo said, his tone quiet and sincere, his own sorrow at what had transpired showing through. "I'm just glad you're alright."

Side by side, the two men made their way toward the wing that slopped underground and to the vast room that held the training facility. Their pace was casual and unhurried, the rest of the walk was quiet as neither had anything else to say; simply two men getting to know each other in their shared silence and company. It was a quiet that spoke volumes and went a long way in bonding the two dangerous men, even if they didn't realize it quite yet. That bond would soon enough become quite obvious to all.

By the time they made it to their destination, Grimmjow had shrugged into the shirt he had grabbed before leaving his room and the two nearly looked ready for missions. Being up and moving seemed to do wonders for the Hunter, working some of the soreness out of his muscles and chasing some of the fatigue away, though neither of them held the delusion that his body was ready for any extra strain at the moment.

They walked into the large space side by side, gaining the attention of the few teams that were also going through exercises, as always happened whenever the two powerful men went anywhere, whether it be in the mansion or out in the city.

As the two crossed the room, Ichigo thinking that he might see if Kenpachi was up to a sparring match again since it wouldn't be wise to have Grimmjow moving about that much, a familiar voice cut through the muffled sounds of the other hit men, instantly and easily gaining his attention.

"Looks like you were right, Yumi. He survived."

Knowing that it was he the speaker was referring to, Grimmjow let his vivid cyan gaze swing to the owner of the voice; a bald man that nearly matched him in hight but didn't quite carry the same muscular bulk. The Hunter vaguely recognized the other from his short time within the mansion's walls, but had yet to speak with him or his partner.

The comment it's self didn't really mean much to the bluenette, nor did it bother him but something about it must have struck a cord with his Handler. The Hunter felt Ichigo tense up at his side, the companionable air that had surrounded them shifting to carry a defensive hostility that set the larger man on edge as well.

Grimmjow fed off the change and let a sneer cross his features just as the usually calm Ichigo seemed unable to keep himself quiet any longer.

"You know, Ikakku; you're right. I screwed up, and yet I'm still on top." He knew he shouldn't have said it. The Handler knew he was only taking the lower ranking Hunter's bait, but he couldn't help it. He had been punishing himself enough these past few days without anyone else's help. The guilt the orange haired man felt for what happened to his partner only made the snide remark seem that much worse and it pushed him over the edge.

At the lower ranking Hunter's side, his Handler tugged lightly at his sleeve, gaining the bald man's attention. "Baiting a higher ranking killer is suicide, Ikakku." Yumichika chided his partner before turning his pretty face toward the Don's top team, a light smile on his lips. "It is good to see the two of you up and about together."

The effeminate man was ignored.

"Yeah, I'm still trying to figure that one out." Ikakku said, a wide grin taking over his features. The words were meant to be playful and taunting, but he didn't much care how they were taken. The man was always up for a good fight and he, as well as anyone else that knew the four men conversing, knew that should this little conversation come to confrontation, it would blow over no matter who came out on top and they would go back to being on the same team. They were, after all, members of the same family.

Ichigo's brows furrowed further, a scowl clouding his handsome, boyish features. He knew there was more coming, he could just feel it. At his side, he felt as much as saw his Hunter stiffen, the bluenette obviously feeling the same way he did.

"Hey, Yumi" Ikakku continued, turning to his Handler as if in private conversation with the man. The grin on his face only widened, asking for trouble. "You think Ichi's sleeping with the boss?"

As the lower team had predicted, Ichigo's face instantly lit up a bright red and his mouth dropped open, a look of incredulity stretched across his features. Yumichika hid his giggle behind a dainty hand while Ikakku let out a barking laugh at the orange haired man's reaction. What they hadn't predicted, however, was how the newest member of the Don's family would react.

And Grimmjow was not pleased with the suggestion, teasing or not. Ichigo was his and he didn't appreciate the lower ranking man thinking otherwise, nor did he like the way the bald man seemed to think it was alright to talk to his Handler the way he did. Full lips peeled back, flashing white, slightly over sharp teeth as cerulean lit with a cold flame. A low growl rumbled in the man's throat, deep and primal and promising danger. Grimmjow curled his lip and took a menacing step toward the lower ranking team.

* * *

><p><strong>Please let me know what you think~<br>**


	7. Chapter 7

**The final chapter of Dinner with the Family; Prequel~  
>I'm almost sad about that :  
><strong>

**Anyway, Enjoy!  
><strong>

* * *

><p>The blue haired Hunter curled his lip, revealing white teeth and a sneer that exude an aura of menace and anger. All eyes turned to look at him as a deep, rumbling growl that could have rivaled an attack dog's own sounded from his chest and worked it's way up his throat. He couldn't care less.<p>

Nor could he care that no one seemed sure how to react. His mentality quickly shifted from recovering and ordinary man to Hunter and before anyone could fully figure out what was going on, Grimmjow lunged. He ignored the ache of his healing body and the sharp flash as something ripped beyond what stitches allowed for.

The lower ranking Handler scrambled backward, a look of surprise on his fair features as the angered bluenette pounced upon his partner. Ikkaku fell back with a startled grunt as the larger man attacked, a viciousness he was not prepared for flowing from the bluenette in waves.

Grimmjow snarled, his usual humor while attacking a target completely missing as he balled up his fist and sent it into the bald man's gut. Luckily for Ikkaku, he held enough sensibility to remember that the man in front of him was of the same family and hadn't reached for his blade.

Ikkaku gasped at the heavy blow, but his own anger quickly took over and he began fighting back, his initial surprise wearing off. He shoved upward, his strength enough to dislodge the less than in top shape man.

Adrenaline and rage fueled the injured bluenette, allowing the Hunter to push passed the pain his body tried to tell him he was feeling as he shifted into a primal and predatory state, an almost inhuman mode that allowed him to overcome and push through what would have easily downed most men. It swirled openly in his rage filled, blue eyes and would quickly become a look that not only his partner, but the rest of the Don's staff would learn recognize as the last warning sign before the man pulled his deadly blade. Rumor and word of the blue haired beast with even bluer, fire filled eyes would quickly fill the city's underworld.

The two Hunter's wrestled across the ground, the pace fast and vicious, neither man willing to step down. Grimmjow snagged hold of the front of Ikkaku's shirt, tugging up sharply before slamming the man back to the ground, a resounding thud following the action. The bald man's eyes squeezed shut momentarily, stunned by the sheer strength the injured man possessed. The bluenette leaned close, teeth flashing and bared as he growled in the lower ranking Hunter's face. Ikkaku struggled in the man's grasp, hands clenched around Grimmjow's wrists in an effort to pry the enraged, blue haired killer off.

Unable to match the larger man's brute strength, Ikkaku lashed out, abandoning his efforts to get loose. He was a Hunter too, after all, and close combat was a must know for all the Don's Hunters. Grimmjow's fierce growling morphed into a grunt as he failed to react quick enough and his opponent's hit grazed across straining stitches and further ripped the suture, quickly saturating the front of Grimmjow's shirt in blood.

While fast and brutal, the entirety of the struggle only lasted moments before both Handlers jumped into action. Halting commands rang through the large room as each Handler sprinted to the fighting Hunters.

Ichigo grabbed hold of his Hunter, a command falling from his lips in a calm and practiced voice, the only voice that had ever been able to halt the enraged bluenette in his tracks and the only voice that would be able to do so in the future. "Grimmjow. That's enough."

The reaction was near instant and the bluenette snarled before he roughly pushed Ikkaku away from himself and toward the bald man's own Handler.

Yumichika grabbed his Hunter, giving a similar command as he did. Ikkaku struggled against the effeminate man's hold for a moment before falling still as well, eyes never leaving the blue haired man standing only a couple meters away. He glared as he panted to catch his breath from the quick and unexpected tumble, eyes narrowed on the equally panting bluenette.

"Grimm." Ichigo's voice was low and firm, instantly drawing his Hunter's attention away from the lower ranking one, whom he had been staring down like he was about ready to pounce again. As blue eyes snapped over to look at him, the man's glare softened. Ichigo watched the predatory madness swirl in vivid and expressive cyan a moment more before the bloodlust drained and cleared away altogether. "That's better."

Grimmjow pulled in a deep breath, as much to calm himself down as it was to help him catch his breath. He let it out in a controlled, slow whoosh. Shoulder's sagging with fatigue from overexerting his healing body, Grimmjow began to turn away from the lower ranking team, just about ready for bed once again as he slowly began to register the aches and pains he had ignored during the quick fight.

Ikkaku did the same, turning toward his Handler and thinking to lead the way toward the opposite side of the training facility. As Yumichika also turned to follow him, one last look to the Don's top team, Ikkaku felt the need to throw one last jeering comment.

"I think I was wrong. Maybe he's sleeping with his partner. Or maybe both?" The lower Hunter said with a shrug and a grin. His voice was quiet, this time only meant for his own partner to hear, but it managed to reach the bluenette's ears all the same.

With another snarl as the only warning, Grimmjow spun about. He had the lower ranking Hunter back on the ground before anyone could react but didn't get the opportunity to do any harm before hands were fisted in the front of his shirt and a big man was pushing the two apart.

Kenpachi leered down at them, a grin on his face at the new guy's tenacity and ferocity even while injured. Ichigo slid to a halt at his side as Kenpachi nearly lifted the bluenette from ground by his shirt and off Ikkaku.

Before Grimmjow allowed himself to be pulled away completely, he bared his white teeth in the bald man's face, his eyes lit with a swirling fire, and growled out in a low voice that only Ikkaku could hear. "We're not yet."

The top Handler once again regained control of his partner with ease, needing only utter a single word. The second ranked Hunter turned toward the lower team, his grin falling to a bored expression as he looked down at them.

"I would expect the third team to be smart enough not to taunt the first. That shit gets you killed." Without a second glance, Kenpachi turned away, his small Handler smiling up at him before scaling him to perch on his shoulder like a pink haired parrot.

Yachiru looked back over her own shoulder, catching Ichigo's eye. She waved cheerily as she allowed her much larger partner carry her toward the shooting range. "Glad to see you looking happier, Ichigo!"

Ichigo waved back, forcing a smile on his face at the girls comment. Had he really looked that upset while his partner had been bedridden? The top Handler shrugged it off, quickly regaining control of himself. He had another, much more stubborn man to worry about, after all. The Handler led the bluenette at his side away from the training facility, suddenly not feeling up to the task of sparing and not really willing to risk that Grimmjow get into another fight.

"What was that about, Grimmjow?" He questioned, not bothering to turn to look at the man. He didn't sound angry, nor even perplexed but his smooth voice carried a bit of a chastising undertone to it.

Grimmjow snorted but didn't say anything as he walked calmly by his Handler's side, an arm wrapped carefully around his torso. He grimaced slightly at the damp feel of his shirt, knowing it to be his own blood and knowing that it would mean seeing Szayel again to get his stitches pulled and the wound re-sewn.

"You need to learn to control yourself when someone taunts you. You can't just throw yourself at whoever angers or offends you. It will get you killed in this line of work." Ichigo told his Hunter after realizing he wouldn't be getting an answer from the man.

"I can control myself just fine." Grimmjow growled out, eyes flashing dangerously.

"Really? It surly didn't seem that way. Ikkaku hardly did anything warranting that kind of attack, and on top of that; you're still hurt. What were you thinking? Pushing yourself like that..."

"Was he right?" Grimmjow interrupted his partner's small rant. He would quickly learn that the only time Ichigo would ever chastise him like that was when he pushed his healing body too hard, and that it was only because the orangette was worried, as someone needed to be, since Grimmjow himself certainly wasn't.

"What?" Ichigo did glance over at his partner then and he couldn't help but notice the odd look in the man's eyes, it was a poorly masked, seething anger. It didn't take him long to realize what Grimmjow was asking him and Ichigo made an incredulous face. "No, I'm not sleeping with Shiro." Then he frowned slightly. "I'm not even entirely sure the Don likes men now that you mention it."

And it was true, even though he was probably the closest to the Don out of all the albino's men, he had no idea if the Don was gay or not. Everyone had seen him openly flirt with both men and women, but no one would ever catch him with one or the other for years to come.

"Do you?" The bluenette all but purred out, letting his piercing gaze slide to finally look toward his partner. The look froze Ichigo in his place, his calm, chocolaty eyes widening ever so slightly.

Before he could answer, his back hit the wall behind him and Grimmjow was standing much too close, one of his thickly muscled arms leaning against the wall and keeping Ichigo directly in front of the powerful bluenette.

"Well?" The Hunter's voice was quiet and he cocked his head slightly, waiting for an answer.

"I..." Ichigo swallowed and looked away for a split second before looking back to his partner, unable to look into the man's too blue gaze but at the same time, unable to look away. He nodded and watched as a predatory grin morphed on the bluenette's handsome face.

A big hand wound around the back of his neck, Grimmjow's fingers lacing with his long hair, and tugged him forward in an action that was much gentler than he would have expected. Their lips connected; fiery and heated, leaving no doubt about just how the bluenette felt for his partner.

Ichigo soon found himself pressing back against the larger man, but not in an effort to get away. The man's tongue ran slowly over his bottom lip, tasting more than seeking entrance and retreated just as slowly back into it's owner's mouth. Grimmjow let the kiss go from heated to languid and almost sweet before he finally pulled back just a few inches to look down into molten brown orbs.

Ichigo's eyes were wide as he stared up into his Hunter's pools of crystalline blue. He slowly reached up to place his fingers against his own lips, a little unsure how to react. Just as slowly, he dropped his hand back to his side, his tongue peeking out to trace the path that Grimmjow's had. As he started to turn away, headed back down the hall without a word, his hand found Grimmjow's and tugged slightly, his fingers running down the bluenette's long ones before he looked back up to see the man's expression go from crestfallen to a wide, pleased grin.

"Let's go get you re-stitched." Ichigo said quietly, a smile coloring his words and tilting his lips.

Later that night, only hours after the doctor had stitched the bluenette's reopened wounds, saw the two men sitting upon the plush, leather couch that occupied the small seating area of their shared suite. While talking and getting to know each other a little more, it didn't take Grimmjow long to pull the smaller man into a repeat of what had happened in the hall.

Ichigo had pulled away after a few moments, the kiss having already grown heated and his breath stolen by the sheer intensity that was his Hunter. But Grimmjow was content enough with what he had managed for the moment and didn't trying pushing his luck for more. As his fatigue from the short fight with the other Hunter and his still healing body caught up to him, he fell into a peaceful sleep, curled on the couch beside Ichigo. The Handler couldn't help but smirk and run his fingers through that unruly, sexy blue hair and marvel at how the man who had just been about to kill one of his own family members without a second thought could be so calm and peaceful around him.

Over the next week, Ichigo kept a close eye on his Hunter, insuring that Grimmjow gave his injuries the time they needed to heal and refrained from pushing himself in the meantime. The Hunter quickly became lover, their attraction toward each other strong and on a primal, natural level. Ichigo was unable to keep his eyes off the man even had he wanted to, but it was for an entirely different reason than before, much to the Don's amusement, not that the albino allowed his knowledge to be obvious as he watched the two grow closer.

Ikkaku and Yumichika wisely kept their distance as the top ranked Hunter began regaining the strength and speed he had held prior to the accident, knowing that they would easily be out matched should the two Hunter's come to blows yet again. Yumichika did track down Ichigo in the halls a few days after the incident to apologize and Ichigo had, of course, accepted the sentiment. However, within the next year the third ranked team would no longer be around to cause trouble.

A week and a half after the bluenette had first woken up and stumbled through the halls to find his Handler, he was pronounced healthy enough for training again by the doctor and deemed ready for missions by the Don. Much to the man's favored team's delight and relief, Shirosaki wasted little time in assigning them to a job.

It was a simple hit but the target's superior was who the Don was really concerned about. He wished to send a message and the clearest way to do that was remove someone important to the recipient, in this case, the man's nephew whom just so happened to work as an informant in the family business. It was almost too easy so Shiro sent in his top team, just in case things should be more than they appeared.

Ichigo tracked the nephew down, easily discovering the time and date their target would be completing business of his own. It had taken no time for the team to sniff out the man's location and find his vehicle out back. Since they hadn't been given instruction to interrupt the dealings happening within the old dock house, Ichigo and Grimmjow exited their own vehicle, parked several blocks away like usual, and decided to wait patently by the man's own car.

As they sat and waited, hidden within the shadows of the buildings the target's car had been pulled into, it didn't take the blue haired Hunter long to get bored. And Grimmjow was never one to pass up the opportunity to either make a kill, or take his lover in public.

Without warning, he was suddenly directly in front of the orange haired hit man, backing him up until the shiny new car was preventing Ichigo from going anywhere, a suggestive grin on his face. Grimmjow tangled his fingers in silky strands and pulled the smaller man into a deep, fiery kiss. As Ichigo gasped slightly in surprise, their relationship still new and the Handler still learning of Grimmjow's slight exhibition tendencies, the bluenette took full advantage. His tongue delved into the warm cavern of Ichigo's mouth, dominating the Handler's and mapping everything he could reach.

Ichigo quickly recovered and began kissing back, moaning slightly as his lower region began trying to stir to life and brushed at the inside of his slacks. Grimmjow pulled the man's lower lip into his own mouth, biting lightly before releasing and pulling back, soothing his tongue over the kiss swollen lip.

Ichigo was left panting, his features flushed ever so slightly with his arousal. It was a delicious sight Grimmjow could never get enough of.

"Gr...Grimm..." He panted quietly, one hand splayed across the bluenette's broad chest as the man grinned that shark grin and pushed even closer. "We're on a mission..."

"Yeah?" Grimmjow bent slightly, forcing Ichigo to bend with him as he rested his hands, one on either side of his Handler's waist, against the hood of a brand new, Dodge Charger. He leaned just a little bit further, pushing his hips flush with Ichigo's and making the man lean backward against the grill of the vehicle. "This is the target's car, right?"

"Of course it is." It seemed like a rather obvious question. Ichigo was never wrong when it came to his job. He was the best there was. This was definitely their target's vehicle.

"Good. Then we'll know when he leaves the docks." The Hunter purred out, dipping his head to let his lips brush across the smooth skin of his partner and lover's neck as he spoke. He ground his hips forward, further pinning Ichigo against the car and consequently showing off the rather prominent bulge in his dark jeans.

He grinned at his Handler's sharp intake of breath, his tongue peeking out to create a hot trail up the side of Ichigo's neck at an agonizingly slow pace until he finally made it to the smaller man's ear.

Ichigo let his head fall to the side slightly, giving his Hunter better access as teeth grazed his ear and long fingers made quick work of the button and zipper of his slacks. That warm hand flattened against the soft skin of his lower belly, directly over the waist band of his boxers.

Grimmjow slowly ran his hand up and under the Handler's shirt, delighting in the toned muscle that nearly quivered in anticipation under his palm. As he mapped his way up to Ichigo's chest, he pushed back gently, forcing the smaller man to lean further back and nearly lay on the hood of the target's Charger. With quick motions, Grimmjow pulled his hand free of the man's button up shirt and grasped Ichigo's hips in a firm grip.

Ichigo sucked in a startled but very aroused breath as Grimmjow lifted him the rest of the way from the ground with ease, broad chest and corded arms flexing. The Hunter grinned as he slid Ichigo up further on the hood, resting his feet on the bumper and spreading his long legs.

The front of the sturdy car dipped slightly under the added weight but the shocks were solid and it easily recovered, bouncing briefly before going back to it's original position. It didn't take the bluenette long to work Ichigo's slacks over his hips and yank them far enough down to hinder the orangette's movement and keep the pants out of his way.

"Grimm..." Ichigo breathed, head tilted back as the Hunter leaned forward and nipped at his throat and jaw line, his orange locks fanned across the dark metallic paint job of the hood. Ichigo wrapped his arms around the bigger man, hands clenching in the back of the tight shirt his partner wore. "This...this isn't a good idea..."

Grimmjow smirked against his lover's throat as he worked his own jeans down far enough to free his already throbbing member. He pulled Ichigo's underwear out of his way, pushing them down to join the man's pants around his ankles. "We might as well give the guy a show before we kill him." He growled out, his voice deep and rumbling in his need.

"You're...ahhh" Ichigo's words were lost in a moan as his partner plunged a single finger into his entrance without warning. He squeezed his eyes shut but the intrusion had his half hard cock twitching in the open air and he could no longer deny his own arousal no matter how hard he tried. "You're cruel."

A devilish smirk was his warning as a second finger was added, quickly pumping back and forth. Ichigo's back arched away from the car, his hands grasping at the bigger man's shirt as he grit his teeth.

"I'm an animal, Ichi." Grimmjow said as he continued preparing the smaller man below him, his erection on the verge of becoming painful as he looked upon his lover's pleasure twisted features and saluting cock. "I thought you figured this out."

"How...how could I f...forget that?" Ichigo tried to keep his voice steady, but his partner had other ideas as he increased the pace of his teasing and added yet another finger, causing the orange haired Handler to cry out.

As his voice echoed softly back to them from the brick building the car had been parked behind, the soft sound of footsteps followed it. Neither man payed much attention, distracted as they were with each other.

Grimmjow pulled the Handler into a soul searing kiss, his tongue seeking entrance that was quickly granted. Ichigo panted and whined into the kiss as the finger's impaling him brushed against his prostate. As Grimmjow's tongue plundered his mouth, teeth scraping and a string of saliva dripping down the Handler's chin, Ichigo cried out again, his head falling back to the car's hood with a dull thump and breaking their kiss.

"Grimm...please..." He panted, his need clouding his judgement and letting him nearly forget they were supposed to be waiting for the target to make an appearance any minute. "Stop teasing me." He commanded, knowing that Grimmjow was never able to refuse his commands, whether it was in business or in bed.

As a sin filled grin spread further across the bluenette's angular features, revealing perfect white teeth, the footsteps came to an abrupt and surprised halt, a quiet and shocked curse falling from the rival man's lips.

Grimmjow pulled his finger's from his lover, preparing to line up as movement caught his attention. His hand instantly went behind his back, grasping the handle of the butterfly knife he kept in his back pocket, an aggressive growl crawling up his throat.

Ichigo, who had arched his back at the sudden lose of the digits impaling him, swung his lust darkened, molten gaze to see what had his partner bristling just as things promised to heat up. Neither man moved from where they were, Ichigo spread out across the hood of the target's car and Grimmjow, one hand still grasping his slim hip, positioned between his spread legs, his hard dick brushing the curve of Ichigo's exposed cheeks.

The man that had walked in on them, the very man that had been named their target, began to recover from his shock as he realized the two men on his car were the trained killers that he had been warned of, the two that were quickly gaining a well deserved reputation in the city. As his hand disappeared into his coat, Ichigo reached underneath his arched back, wrapping his fingers around the handle of his gun. He pulled the weapon free, aiming for the target without moving from his position on the hood just as the man aimed toward his partner. A loud shot split the quiet air, echoing off the surrounding buildings and freezing all three men in place for a moment.

As the echos faded, Grimmjow's groan took their place and the bluenette bent to recapture his lover in another heated, almost desperate kiss. The target, a bullet buried in his brain crumpled to the pavement as the blue haired killer pulled back again.

"That..." The Hunter growled out, his voice low and husky. "was damn sexy." He thrust forward, sheathing himself inside his Handler.

Ichigo cried out, his gun slipping from his hand to lay on the hood of the dead man's car as he grasped at his lover. He wrapped his legs around the bluenette's waist as the man quickly picked up a steady pace.

"L...leavvvve it to you...to find something like that...sssexy..." He panted out between his moans as he thrust back onto the cock impaling him.

Grimmjow growled, the deep rumble more of a purr than a menacing sound. "That's not what I wanna hear..." He said, smirk crossing his features again as he thrust deep and fast. He twisted Ichigo's hips, adjusting his angle until he found what he was looking for.

"Ahh...Grimm!" Ichigo's voice rose to echo off the walls, back arching as the Hunter struck his prostate and pleasure whitened his vision.

"That's better..." Grimmjow fisted his long fingers around the Handler's neglected member and began stroking in time with his now brutal pace, grunting and moaning his own pleasure as his lover panted and cried out.

The car rocked slightly with their movements, the shocks groaning quietly to mix with their sounds of pleasure. A few meters away, the negated target's body lay in a spreading pool of blood to be found with the next morning.

"Ahhh..." Ichigo voiced his pleasure, heat pulling in his belly and threatening to consume him. His hands searched for purchase on the smooth metal of the hood as Grimmjow pounded into him, his heavy member filling him and pushing him closer to the edge of his need. "Ssso...close..." He all but choked out between his panting moans.

Grimmjow hummed a moaning purr in answer, one of his hands grasping the slim hip of his lover in a bruising grip. He quickened his pace, his thrusts beginning to loose rhythm as he too rocketed toward his release. He pumped his other hand over his lover's member, the pace matching his thrusts.

Ichigo cried out as the white strands of his release coated his Hunter's hand, some of it managing to smear across the pretty metallic paint of the hood he was spread out upon. As the heated walls of his entrance constricted with his orgasm, Grimmjow grunted his own release and let go of Ichigo's hips in favor of bracing himself up against the car's hood.

The Handler panted to catch his breath below the bluenette, too sated to worry about where they were at the moment. Grimmjow straightened and Ichigo sat up, legs dangling over the edge of the hood and pants still down around his ankles. The orangette started to hop off the car, but Grimmjow wrapped his muscled arms around his waist before he could.

Surprised, Ichigo threw his arms around the bluenette's neck for support as he was lifted from the vehicle and set back on the ground. Flashing the bigger man a grateful smile, Ichigo bent to pull his pants back into place as Grimmjow tucked himself back into his boxers and zipped up.

"Ah...dammit." Ichigo mumbled as he stood back up, buttoning his pants and looking at the car. Smeared across the hood in sticky evidence was an easy way to make a positive ID on who had been the man to murder the target. For an operation that worked underground and under the cops' radar, such evidence was unforgivable and could not only land Ichigo and Grimmjow in jail, but bring the entire family down.

The Handler frowned as he tried to find a way to clean up the mess he and Grimmjow had made. He snagged his gun from the hood and swiftly hid it away in it's holster once more.

He looked back up as his Hunter shifted about, shoes crunching on the loose grit and gravel on the pavement. The half crazed light in the man's too blue eyes spelled disaster and Ichigo knew the man had come up with something.

"What are you looking for?" The Handler cautiously asked his partner as the man patted at his pockets briefly.

"You happen to have any of the Don's smokes on you? Or a lighter?" Grimmjow asked before he crossed the short space to the cooling body they would be leaving behind. He pulled his knife out, flipping it open as he bent beside the dead man. Carefully, he used the tip of his knife to open up the man's jacket.

Ichigo watched as his partner and lover stood back up, a matchbook in hand and a wide, slightly unhinged grin eating his handsome face. The man walked back to the car's side, looking over his shoulder and motioning for Ichigo to stay back as he pulled the gas cap open.

Ichigo's eyes widened as the bluenette struck a match across the car's tire and casually dropped it on the edge of the opening. The Hunter turned from the car and was quickly at Ichigo's side. He grabbed the smaller man's hand and took off in a run down the alleyway that they had entered the area from, dragging Ichigo with him.

The fumes from the nearly full tank of gas stoked the small flame of the match into a small inferno before the flame worked it's way down, where it lit the potent fuel it's self. Within minutes, the tank erupted, spewing forth flames that bubbled and melted the paint of the once gorgeous car before it consumed the whole of the vehicle.

The car alarm began screaming out, the horn and lights flashing but it was quickly silenced as the flames destroyed the sensors that triggered it and ignited several small explosions that popped and burned.

By the time Grimmjow and Ichigo made it back to their own vehicle, the driver bowed and silent beside the opened door, the flames had grown to light the night sky a sickly orange and sirens could be heard in the distance.

"That was a little extreme..." Ichigo commented as he slid into the vehicle, his Hunter following close behind, but he couldn't be bothered to hide the smirk that tilted his lips. No doubt the Don would get a kick out of this one.

The driver shut the door behind his masters before casually walking around the vehicle to enter the driver's side, his pace unhurried as sirens screamed and drew closer. As he climbed into the fancy vehicle, he reached behind himself and quietly pulled the partition closed, guessing the two hit men would be needing their privacy after a hunt well done.

As the car pulled away from the curb, Grimmjow grasped the orangette's wrist and yanked the man into his lap. His gorgeous blue eyes still darkened with more than just lust, he captured the petal soft lips in front of him as the dark and dirty city rolled by around them.

* * *

><p><strong>I hope the ending was satisfactory~<br>It was only fitting that since the first installment ended with the two getting caught in the act that they would get caught this time too, well, sort of~ **

**Let me know what you thought, please!  
><strong>


End file.
